Defeated
by WeLiedAboutTheCookies
Summary: Cold. That was all the world was to Italy now. Cold, and heartless, and cruel. He didn't understand why. He didn't care though. He just cared about the pain. It hurt so much. And he was so cold. The little warmth he had where Germany and Japan, asleep beside him. But they knew the world was cold too. So, so cold... (Post WW2 dark whump, GerIta, Canada/China, not for faint of heart)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. I hope you all don't mind this little authors note.**

 **This was a slight collab with a good friend of mine, N. . You should go check her out! She's got a nice old Spider Man whump similar to this, if you need more whump.**

 **Anywho, I was just thinking, what would happen post WW2? The Axis where practically screwed after that, so...**

 **Yeah they're screwed.**

 **Just let me know what you think of it, which Allie you hate most after reading this, and what you thought would have happened after WW2.  
**

 **For the mean time, _arrivederci, amici_! **

It was raining.

It seemed to always be raining. At least now. Fat wet drops pelted down on the shoulders of two soldiers, trudging through a marshy environment combed with tank tracks and fallen trees. The great holes in the ground were now filled with muddy, swirling water, causing the ground around them to become swampy and hard to navigate.  
While one looked considerably younger, they were both about the same age, at least in human years. The two were the living images of countries; Germany and Italy.  
The war was over now, which meant that they needed to run. Japan had already surrendered, but Germany would not give up. He couldn't, because he knew that as a nation he would be hated and scorned upon, or worse, dissolved. Much less could he let that fate fall on the shoulders of Italy, who was seemingly too innocent for his own good.

The German soldier's hand was wrapped around the wrist of the Italian soldier, dragging him along. Mud squelched under his worn boots, his short, slicked back blonde hair falling from it's place and getting into his mud caked face. He pushed on, his wounded chest heaving as his other hand fought to keep the bandages in place. The metallic, tangy scent of blood filled the air around him, and his throat felt like an icy fire was penetrating it. The air was cold and wet, his military jacket draped over his shoulders firmly, the only thing keeping him warm in the musky environment.  
The Italian was rasping audibly, every once and a while letting out a quiet, tired, even sad whimper. His blue uniform was ruined, the knees and elbows torn away. His once pure, smiling face was now beaten and bruised, a gash on his forehead making his face seem clammy. His amber eyes were cracked open, though only barely, keeping a wary eye out for the enemy. He shook, letting himself be dragged along, stumbling; since he wasn't as athletic as his larger and stronger counterpart.

Finally, the Italian spoke.  
"Doitsu?..." He rasped, digging his heels in the mud to stop his companion. The blonde haired German turned around slowly at the familiar nickname, something Japan had taught him. " _Piacere..._ we need to-a slow down, no? It's not... not-a good for your wound."  
The German could feel his face grow hot, his eyes flashing angrily. Italy flinched away, covering his read haired head protectively.  
"Do you hear zhose armored cars, Italia!?" The German roared, though still not loud enough for many to hear the two. "America, Russia, England, China... even France is after us! If they catch us, zhey vill try to kill us. Zhey vill beat us and zhen leave us to rot, or maybe vorse!"  
Italy wormed his wrist from Germany's tightening grip.  
"Maybe we can-a get somewhere safe, at least for a little while..." Italy murmured to himself quietly, shaking as the rain continued to beat down on the two.  
There was a long pause, Italy standing silently; prepared for another bout of shouting. Germany stared for a moment, breathing heavily. His gaze softened, and he put his hand on the Italian's shoulder.  
"Fine. But vee vill only stay for a few hours, ja?"  
Italy glanced up. A small smile splayed across his face. " _Ve~... Grazie_ , Germany."

This time when the two resumed their trek, Italy followed voluntarily beside his larger companion. After a long while, the two came across the remains fo a small town and were able to find shelter in a crumbling alley. It was by far one of the only suitable places to rest in the entire ruins of the town. The two huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around each other for warmth. After a while, Germany realized that Italy had fallen asleep, gripping onto him as if for dear life. From that point on, he tried to remain awake, but soon found his awareness began to slip. Any adrenaline he had possessed before began to fade, and his world became a warm and welcoming black.

When he once again awoke, the world was no longer silent, but instead filled with the mechanical whirring of machinery. He glanced up to see a large tank rolling by outside, led and followed by armored cars and caravan trucks, the occasional group of soldiers walking alongside them. He held his breath stiffly as a pair of soldiers drew uncomfortably close to the alley.  
As his consciousness returned fully, he became aware of a quiet whimpering from just below him. He glanced down to see Italy staring, wide eyed and seemingly terrified at the two men talking and slowly walking just outside. Germany quickly slapped his hand over Italy's mouth, prying his vision away from the Italian's glassy amber eyes to see one of the soldiers tossing a rock in the air absentmindedly, as one would a playing ball.  
He snapped his eyes shut automatically as the soldier turned and forcefully threw the rock into the alley. He could hear Italy let out a muffled yelp, and he himself tried to bite back a shout as the rock collided with his wounded shoulder. Italy's breathing grew ragged and stiff, as was his own at this point. He peeled his eyes open, his joints locked and ready to pounce up and run at any moment.

One of the soldiers was now gone, the other aiming a gun into the dark shadows of the alley were they sat. Suddenly, Russia and England came careening around the corner. Russia had a gun slung over his shoulder, his heavy scarf swinging damply in the wind, England's unkempt hair now matted and wet.

Within moments, at a near indecipherable speed, Russia had lunged forward and had taken Italy by the hair, wrenching him from Germany's protective grip with enough force to pry a door from its hinges. Italy began to sob, Russia working quickly to tie his hands behind his back, and took a ragged strip of cloth to serve as a blindfold.  
Italy screamed, shouting vainly and fighting helplessly against Russia's grip.  
"Germany! Germany help-a me-a!"  
"Italia!-" He shouted back, his voice contorted angrily. He fought to his knees painfully, the wound on his chest searing, but England sent a well aimed blow to his side and knocked him down.  
"You will pay for your crimes!" England spat angrily. The slightly older man's face was red hot with fury as he sent another kick into Germany's side.  
Germany's head collided forcefully with the brick wall behind him, and he could feel England's sweaty hands wind around his wrists, tying them back behind his back. His eyelids fluttered as a blindfold was lowered over his eyes as well, leaving him sightless.

He didn't know who lifted him to his feet, which he stumbled onto and dragged for a few moments, but after a minute he was thrown down onto a tin-plastic surface. He could hear Italy's quiet whimpering and sobbing near his face, though he didn't know where from exactly. His head pounded as the heavy rumbling of an engine clouded his hearing, and the surface he lay on vibrated slightly. After a moment he came to realize that the floor was wet and hot. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to clear his head .  
It felt like hours until he could think again.

And true hours later, a small, weak voice broke the silence of his world.  
"Doitsu... Doitsu, are-a you there?"  
"...Ja..."  
" _Ve~_... good." Italy said after a pause.  
He heard a slight shuffling, and then felt something warm and soft, yet still wet and damp press against his chest. Italy's head readjusted to become more comfortable. He heard Italy open his mouth, but instead only a croak escaped, and he whimpered again, burying his head deeper into Germany's wounded chest. Italy began to cry.  
"I'm scared." Italy whispered.  
Germany felt his voice crack as a lump formed in his throat. Though he couldn't see it, he knew Italy was crying because of the shudders nearby and the shaky breath he new belonged to his friend.  
"I am too." He admitted softly.

He didn't know what would happen next, but he knew he had to stay strong. For Italy.  
For both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't know how long it had been when the vehicle they were in finally pulled over, but by that time his energy was once again waning. He could hear Italy's soft breathing next to him, and he knew he was asleep. He could feel a pang of guilt ripple through his gut, telling him that it was his fault they had gotten into such a mess. When it finally rolled to a stop, once again he found himself holding his breath a bit. He heard the doors up front slam shut, and a slight commotion from a little way off, seemingly inside.  
He heard England say something to someone, before a set of footsteps grew near.

A sneer sounded from a few feet away. He craned his neck to try and locate the true source of the noise.  
"Still here I see? Didn't feel like jumping out of the back of the car?" England's voice was sickeningly mocking, simply gushing with sarcasm.  
" _Mund halten Sie Schwachkopf_." Germany hissed back, his voice dripping venomously.  
He heard England growl angrily. "Let's set some base rules, oi? Rule number one; don't talk back. Or that Feduchinni idiot pays for it. In fact, don't speak unless someone speaks to you. As for rule number two..."  
There was a pause.  
"I don't know yet. I'll think of it later. But that's rule one, got it? Anything you do to break any of these rules, Italy pays for it; and vice versa. I'd love to see how long it takes to make him cry."  
Germany could feel his jaw hanging open slightly, shaking with anger.  
"You wouldn't hurt him." He stated quietly, any anger he had now contained to the small set of almost unaudible words.  
"Watch me." England hissed back.

Germany said nothing as there was a rustle of fabric, and whatever faint afternoon light that had managed to penetrate the blindfold dissapeared almost completely. He heard stiff, angry footsteps marching away, no doubt England's.

England must have been out of his right mind to say something like that. Everyone knew Italy was way too niave -niave to the point where he was confused alone at the mention of alcohol or other things- to be able to stay sane in this sort of predicament. Germany had done his best explaining things, as had his brother Romano when he was finished swearing at the both of them.  
But he could tell that Italy was still terrifed. His fragile childishness would most likely shatter if someone tried to hurt him more than he already had been. Italy was confused as to why the other nations where -at this point it was entirely safe to say- being so cruel. Even with reason and other matters on other hands, the Allies where ruthless and he didn't know what was going to happen.  
Then again, neither did Germany.

He let his head fall gently back to the surface of the still damp floor, his mind reeling. He extended his chin slightly to find Italy still laying there. He placed his chin on the Italian's head gently, as if for reassurance. He tried to scoot closer without disturbing him, since it was beginning to get chilly. They had left his jacket behind, and now all that covered his upper half was the scrappy black bandages that had been made up from the tank-top he wore underneith, like every other soldier.  
His arms were prickling slightly, he knew by now he had goosebumps, and he could hear the steady slap-slap-slap of the straps attached to the fabric that blocked the light. The breeze was blowing it slightly, and all he could see was the dark shape of a high set back, clipped up so they wouldn't slide out if the car sped up, but it was farther away, and they were near the cab in front. The sun was growing low, and the sky was clear, piercing a blurry, mundane, golden shape into his vision through the blindfold.

That was all he could see though.  
He tried to rely on his other senses to gain an idea of his surroundings. Slowly, gently, he lifted up a leg, rolling onto his back a bit to swing his foot around. About six inches to the left, he ran into some sort of shelf sticking from the side-no, it was a bench. He lifted his foot over Italy gently, careful not to bump him, and felt for the other bench. It was there, but there was something sitting on top of it. From what he could assume, it was a crate of some sort, filled with supplies or ammunition that wouldn't be needed; since the war was over. He let out a sigh. From what information he had, he could assume they were in a soldier's standard transport vehicle, similar to what America used to ride in, something called a 'covered wagon', just with a motor and cab and large, strong wheels instead.  
This explained why such a cold draft was getting in. Much to his disappointment though, what light he saw indicated that the back part, which could be lowered up and down, was almost half the size of the floor to ceiling length. That meant he couldn't climb out, even with reasonable space up top.  
He swallowed. He couldn't leave Italy either. He knew that if he woke him up and actually managed to get out, they might not get far. Someone could spot them, and they were also rendered blind.

Germany let out a frustrated grunt, feeling his brow furrow as he tried to concentrate.  
After thinking a moment, he inhaled deeply through his nose, letting the air out of his mouth with a sigh. The air smelled musky, dirt and dust thickly riddling it. Motor oil also filled the air nearby, stinging his nose with the acidic scent. He coughed, and rolled onto his side again to press his chin on Italy's head once more. After a few moments, he heard a quiet yawn; and the smacking of chapt lips together.  
Pricking his hears, he didn't hear any people nearby, but music and conversation sounded from a little way off. On occasion a vehicle would pull by, the whir of an engine pushing past their prison, but it was otherwise almost silent.

He heard a light, shuddering breath; some sort of deep sigh echo from beside him.  
He heard a small whisper cut into the near silence from behind him.  
"Germany?" Italy whispered. "Are-are-a you awake?"  
"...J-ja." He answered. After a long pause, he realized how shaky his voice sounded. The cold seemed to have taken an effect on him. He slowly rolled back over to face were Italy's voice came from.  
"Oh..." Italy seemed worried. "Doitsu, are you-a cold?"  
"Ja, I guess." He said as clearly as possible, his teeth chattering.  
"I would give-a you my coat but..." He let out a slightly uncomfortable laugh, but for some reason he still seemed tired.  
Germany could feel himself smile a little at that laugh, no matter how odd or strange that small laugh sounded.  
"It's just fine. I vill get used to it." He responded.  
"Don't-a say that! You shouldn't have to!" Italy seemed to be trying to scold him, but it didn't work. Instead it came out high pitched and worried, still a bit raspy.  
"Italia..."  
"Here." Italy said, and he felt Italy burrow his head into his wounded chest. He let out a slight gasp, letting a sound of pain hiss through his teeth.  
" _Mi dispace!"_ Italy exclaimed quietly, and pulled back a slight bit. "You need to stay warm though."

Germany said nothing, simply letting Italy cuddle up next to him. He didn't object, simply listening. There were a few birds singing quietly outside. As far as he could tell, the light was beginning to fade, and it was slowly becoming colder and colder.

Every once and a while, Italy would say something, almost as if to provoke a response from him. He would always answer though, with a few quick words, but then Italy would let out that small content sigh and cuddle into him a little bit more. Germany knew Italy would be hugging him if he could, but that wasn't possible with his hands tied behind his back.  
"I hope-a that Romano is okay." Italy said after a while.  
"Hmm?"  
"Romano... I kinda left him-a back home, alone. He's probably worried sick." Italy let out a tiny laugh. " _Ve~_... and-a blaming you."  
Germany couldn't help but smile just a bit at that. Romano, Italy's twin brother, was one to blame him for getting Italy into trouble. His face fell quickly though.  
"Vell, he has every vright to."  
"Doitsu..." Italy said once again, sort of scolding him, but also apparently feeling bad.  
"It's true Italy. It's my fault. If I hadn't dragged you along into zhis mess, trying to get avhay from zhe Allies-"  
"If you hadn't drawn me-a in, then we-a wouldn't be tied up in a truck talking about it." Italy responded flatly. "If it weren't for-a you 'dragging me-a into this mess', then the Allies would have-a caught me earlier, and I wouldn't have-a anyone to help me."  
"Since when have I ever helped you, Italia?"  
"Do you want me-a to go down the-a list?"  
Germany sighed. " _Nein._ I understand."  
" _Ve~"_ Italy said, somewhat a bit cheerier. " _Bene_."

The two went silent, Italy breathing softly while Germany contemplated what England had said earlier. Half of him wanted to tell Italy, just to let him know, but the other half told him not to.  
Suddenly there was a loud bang, and he could feel Italy jump beside him. The door swung down, and he heard America laughing. A dull glow, like lanterns, glowed off behind him and the other figure standing next to him.  
"Well crap, look at that." America's arrogant tone seemed slightly closer, yet still standing just outside the truck. "We'll have to squeeze in here I guess, my dear Canadia."  
"My name's Canada, eh." A softer, almost shyer version of America's voice spoke.  
"Whatever."  
"I'm your brother."  
America snorted, and began to climb in, but still not taking to seat himself on one of the benches. A light followed in suit, most likely one of the lanterns from outside, brightening the place considerably. Italy flinched slightly as America seemingly poked him with his booted toe.  
"Hi there."

The two said nothing, but Germany set an angry scowl on his face as some sort of feeble attempt to scare them away.  
"Oh... I'm gonna sit in front, okay?" Canada stated. He seemed wary, somewhat conscious of the almost disturbing cheeriness in America's voice. "I'll tell England... eh?"  
"Sure." America responded. He hung the lantern on one of the straits holding the canvas over the covered area.  
There was another loud bang as Canada shut the back of the truck, leaving America alone with the two hostages on the floor.  
"So, England said whenever you do something bad, Germany, I gotta hurt Italy 'n stuff. I think it works the other way around too... huh. Well. I guess Germany did something earlier, so... meh."

America used his boot to push Italy away from were Germany lay on the floor, rolling the weak nation onto his back. Germany felt confused for a moment, before he saw a quick shadow and Italy's pain filled cry filled the small space.  
"You son of a bitch!" Germany shouted angrily, and once again Italy cried out.  
Germany tried to kick towards America, and he only made contact once or twice, but each time he even tried to fight back Italy was struck.  
It took him a moment to realize what America was doing. Each time Germany acted out, Italy payed for it. Just as England had promised. He quickly stopped and bit his tongue to refrain from saying anything else that might get Italy hurt.  
"Now ya get it." America said after a pause. He marched to the far end of the truck and sat down there.

"What did I-a do?" Italy asked weakly, scooting closer to Germany once again.  
"It vhas my fault." Germany responded, feeling that guilty pang once more. It was clear Italy was trying to hold back whimpers and tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."  
" _Ve~_... it's-a okay." Italy said. He sounded like he was trying to be happy.  
"No, it's not."  
"Doitsu... I'll-a be fine."  
"Italia..." Germany let out an exasperated sigh. "Vhere does it hurt?"  
"My side hurts... and my-a intestines feel weird." Italy tried to laugh a little, but it came out as a cough. "I think I-a heard something break."  
Germany could feel his brow furrow, angrily. "Oh, Italia..."  
"No. Don't-a say anything." Italy said. Germany could feel him cuddle up again, though now he was more aware of the Italian's, thin raspy breathing. "Sleep."  
" _Nien._ It's not safe, who knows vhat zhey could do to you?"  
" _Piacere..._ for me?"  
Germany let out a huff. "Fine."  
" _Ve~,_ good. _Grazie._ "

Germany paused for a moment, letting out a sigh. "Vhy do you zhank me if all I do is get you hurt?" He asked quietly. He didn't care if America was watching or listening; he needed to know.  
"That's-a easy. We're in this-a together. We'll protect each other, like-a you said. We pinkie promised, remember? Japan showed-a you how."  
Germany swallowed thickly. He could hear himself think 'I've broken that promise now', but he didn't say anything.  
"And we're-a best friends too." Italy continued after a moment.  
Germay could feel a quarter smile spread across his face a little bit. "Oh."  
" _Ve~._ Go to sleep now, okay?" Italy seemed just a bit cheerier, though his voice was still raspy and croaky.  
"Alright zhen."

He put his chin on Italy's head again, feeling just a bit more comforted by the fact that he wasn't alone. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold gently, finding it was pitch black if he did so. He tried not to let his thoughts escape his control, but he couldn't help but think about England's threats and America's unruly actions. He, as a tactical leader, understood their purpose now. They were trying to hurt him; but by hurting Italy instead. The thought alone made the guilt in his gut pile up and give him butterflies.  
After a long while he felt the vibrations of the engine begin once more and the car rumble forward slightly, but he didn't care much. He felt Italy nestle into his chest just a slight bit more, apparently wary of his steal healing wound. He let his stiff breathing slow as the energy he'd used to try and fight America away faded. His head became light, and his eyes felt as if they were sealed shut.

And soon he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Italy wasn't quite sure what was happening as he heard a set of footsteps quickly close the small space between their owner and were he was sprawled on the floor helplessly. He swallowed, trying to bury his head in Germany's chest just a bit further, to protect himself. However, America's boot nudged his face away, quickly.  
Italy whimpered. He couldn't see what America was doing, or the look on his face.  
"Meh." America stated blatantly, using his booted foot to push Italy a bit further away from his friend.

Italy was aware that Germany's breathing seemed a bit ragged, if at all he was confused. Italy wanted to speak, but he found the words caught in his throat. There was a lump there, and the roof of his mouth was dry as America's foot dissapeared.  
The silent pause seemed to take years to end, and in a way, Italy wished that it hadn't.

A sharp jab sent a fiery pain bursting through his ribs, and he let out a yelp, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes. He felt more awake all of the sudden, the world slightly more in detail, but it faded and changed.  
He could hear Germany swear angrily beside him, mere feet away. Italy could feel himself begin to cry, the tears sliding past the blindfold and down his grimy cheeks as another kick caused him to scream in pain once again.  
"Stop it! He has done nozhing!" He could hear Germany shout, and it seemed so close his ears rang.

Yet another kick hit his ribs, and he could feel one begin to bend sickeningly. He let out a choked sob, trying to roll on his side, but America moved him back onto his back again with a rough nudge.  
" _Mi dispace! Per favore!_ Tell me what I did!" He hiccuped, his words sounding slightly less audible and more raspy than he would have liked.  
Germany swore again, and after a pause he heard America curse under his breath.  
"That actually hit me." America said under his breath, and it came out as an unfamiliar hiss. "The damn idiot, ow."

Italy froze just a slight bit, realizing Germany had managed to kick America back. There was an awkward pause. It had to be good that Germany fought back, maybe America would finally stop. Suddenly America's foot once again collided with his ribs, and he let out another yelp. Still, he bit his tongue and cut the panicked noise short. A part of him didn't want America to have the satisfaction of hearing his pain, but another two quick kicks and a sickening ' _crack_ ' caused him to scream once more.  
His throat burned and the tears hurt his eyes; his stiff back against the floor of the truck they were in hurting his wrists, hurting his back; and yet every time he rolled over America nudged him back in place, facing the ceiling with his hands pressed between him and the floor, sobbing.  
"Stop! Stop! Stop! _Ich werde verdammt töten_! Stop!"  
Twice more America kicked him, and he sobbed harder. His head was spinning and he was now more than positive his rib wasn't just fractured; but completely broken, and his insides felt is if they were going to tear apart and dissolve inside of him. His throat burned as he coughed, and he could feel something hot and thick begin to run down his chin. He let out another sickened cough as he realized that it was blood. There was a long pause after that, and all he could see was America's dark shadow being cast through the blindfold by the lamp.

Germany said a few more things, a few too muffled to hear since his head was spinning. A few more jabs, without as much force, were sent sailing into the tender wound. He let out a small gasp-like-groan, his breath shaking with every small impact.  
"Stop... stop... _per favore..._ " He begged, taking in tiny gulps of air to try and calm himself, though the tears still flowed freely down his face. He coughed weakly once or twice, but tried to hold everything else in. He realized quickly that Germany had gone silent, and he sensed no movement from him, though he could feel the heat radiating from him like a volcano.

Italy braced himself for more punishment, yet none came. Instead the footsteps headed back towards were they originated, and there was a thud as America plopped down on the seat.  
"Now ya get it." America stated, almost sounding amused.

Italy tried to look at America through the dirty blindfold, but saw hardly a thing. After a moment's pause, Italy gently shifted his weight to the less pained side, and shifted across the ground to Germany. The man was silent, breathing heavily through his nose, as if he was biting his tongue to refrain from speech.

Italy spoke, and his voice was only quiet enough for a mouse to hear, and yet it still hurt. "What did I-a do?" Italy asked weakly, trying to find comfort in his friend's form sprawled on the floor.  
Germany answered quickly, almost as quietly. "It vhas my fault. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."  
Italy let out a shaky breath, putting on a small smile even though he knew Germany couldn't see. " _Ve~_... It's okay." He stated reassuringly.  
Germany spoke blatantly and quickly as he answered, as if it were obvious. "No it's not."  
Italy felt a frown fall on his face, and the action alone felt strange to him; he didn't often frown. "Doitsu... I'll be fine."

Germany sighed, and Italy inched away a slight bit. "Italia..." He seemed annoyed and worried. Italy remembered that Germany often spoke like that when something went wrong and he couldn't help it. "Vhere does it hurt?"  
Italy paused for a long time, before speaking again, but his voice cracked a bit as he said it. "My side hurts... and my intestines feel weird." Italy tried a smile again, but the shaky breaths made him laugh a slight bit. "I think I heard something break."  
When Germany spoke again, Italy felt a bit surprised by his tone of voice. It was soft, and sympathetic; even kind of sad. "Oh, Italia..."  
For a moment it seemed like he was going to keep talking, so Italy cut him off. "No. Don't say anything. Sleep."  
Germany's voice went back to normal when he spoke again. " _Nein_. It's not safe, who knows vhat zhey could do to you?"  
Italy pouted. " _Piacere..._ for me?"  
Germany sighed heavily. "Fine."  
" _Ve~,_ good. _Grazie_."

There was a long pause, and Italy shifted a bit closer to try and keep his coat-less companion warm. He snuggled his face into Germany's chest, and Germany put his chin on his head gently, shifting a bit to get comfortable.  
There was a long pause before Germany spoke again.  
"Vhy do you zhank me if all I do is get you hurt?"  
Italy was taken back by the question, but he answered quickly."That's easy. We're in this together. We'll protect each other, like-a you said. We pinkie promised, remember? Japan showed you how." Germany said nothing for a moment, so Italy added one last bit. "And we're best friends too."  
Germany paused and let out a heavy breath. "Oh."  
" _Ve~._ Go to sleep now, okay?"  
"Alright zhen."

Once again Italy snuggled a bit closer, and there was a long, undisturbed silence. Germany's breathing slowed a bit, and Italy began to get tired as well. The engine of the caravan truck rumbled beneath them, warming their heads, and gravity tugged them back just a bit as the car pulled forward.  
Italy could hear the steady _put-put-put_ of the engine, a whir as they turned, and the grumble of gravel against the heavy tires. Wherever they had been, they were now leaving. Italy turned his head to the side slightly, watching the lantern hung above them swing slightly. There wasn't much to do in the small trailer of the truck, simply feel the sway of the truck as it went over bumps in the road and watch the daunting light of the lantern swing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Italy couldn't stop thinking about America's beating. America was usually one to support or mess around with Italy, but for some reason the war had changed him. He could feel tears gather at the corners of his eyes again, the numb pain of a broken rib pounding, pounding, pounding away in his side. He let out a quiet sob, but bit his lip to quiet himself. He couldn't let America hear; if he did he might be punished for it.  
He began to cry silently, tears streaming down his face and taking what little dirt and grime remained there with it, cleaning his face slightly. He could hear his breath shaking, and he let out tiny little gasps one after another. He curled up on himself slightly, pulling his knees almost to his nose to curl up, not caring about the pain.

"What's your problem?" America's voice caused him to flinch, and he ground his teeth together. He said nothing, burying his face into Germany's chest, as if trying to hide.  
He heard a set of angry footsteps march towards him quickly, the truck rattling slightly. He felt the familiar form of America's boot begin to nudge him away from Germany, causing him to whimper. A shadow loomed over him, and America leaned down. He could make out the other nation's face, slightly battle worn and set with a scowl, dark blue eyes staring at him from behind a set of glasses, short blonde hair a bit wild. Italy could feel the tears run down his face a bit quicker as America's gloved hand grabbed his jaw, like a mother would a lying child, and pull his face straighter.  
"Answer me." America hissed angrily.  
Italy whimpered, crying a bit more at the nation's surprisingly angry face, and he shrunk back more, trying to pull his face away. America only gripped it tighter.  
"Wa-why? Before the w-wa-war you wa-wa-were nice;" Italy finally hiccuped, trying to make the tears stop as he continued to shakily say; "Y-ya-you used to bah-bah-be nice. Now ya-ya-you're mean ah-ah-ah-and scary."  
America released his jaw, letting him push up his legs and scoot away slightly.

"You wouldn't understand. You're too naive." America finally stated bitterly, moving to step away from him. There was a long pause, and Italy didn't move, feeling his chest constrict.  
America spoke.  
"Italy... I'm sorry, but I'm not, okay? Just shut up and take it next time."  
Italy flinched at the icily delivered words. He could feel himself try to calm down, taking big breaths to try and slow his rapidly rising and falling chest.  
"Wa-wa-were are-a we g-going?" Italy hiccuped, trying to calm himself.  
"England's place. We're meeting up with the Nordic countries and a few others to decide what to do with you. I think we're picking up Japan on the way." America stated this quickly and simply, before adding on a quick remark. "Now shut up."

Italy didn't do anything but shift to cuddle with Germany again. The other nation let out a sigh as Italy let the last of his tears drain out, and he soon shuddered. A brisk air filtered in through the flaps of the car, and he began to feel bad for Germany, who's teeth were beginning to chatter even though he wasn't awake. He wished they'd brought his coat, at least to drape over him, but for all he knew it was now covered in mud and left in the alley where they had been caught.

Italy closed his eyes, letting himself relax. He had just realized how stiff his shoulders were, held up and bracing for impact.  
He knew he would never forget what America had done, simply kicking, kicking, kicking over and over again until his rib had actually broken, and even continued after that.  
He became more weary of America after that, listening for any movement that might be threatening. Soon though, he let his stiff legs fall back gently, and his head, which had been held up slightly to listen, fell to the floor gently. He couldn't move to wipe away the blood dribbling down his chin though, which he found somewhat discomforting.  
He pressed his forehead between Germany's collar bones, letting out a sigh.

It was going to be okay. Germany would save them. He knew it.

He just knew it.


	4. Chapter 4

When Germany awoke again, he was aware that the lantern from the night before had been blown out, and was instead replaced by a bright-ish grey-green light shining from outside. The air was cool, and slightly musky from inside, but he didn't feel as cold any more. He didn't move, slowly letting his eyes become used to the dim light, and easing his breathing. He felt Italy's head pressed to his chest once more, something he had a feeling could become ritual in their situation, and hear his companion's soft breathing.  
Italy seemed to be breathing lightly, his normal soft 've~'s' coming out raspy and quiet. He could feel himself grit his teeth angrily, but he said nothing. He didn't know if America was watching, or listening, or even there, but he didn't want to risk it. For Italy's sake.

Quickly he felt the car turn, the direction he couldn't quite dicifer, but once again gravel rumbled uner the heavy tires of the vehicle, and the vehicle rolled to a stop. He froze up slightly as he heard a pair of feet hit the floor, and Italy began to stir slightly. Germany nudged his head a bit, trying to get a message through for him to be quiet. Italy seemed to understand, freezing.

He listened as the feet -who he assumed were America's- unhooked the back and jumped down to the gravel surface below. He heard a few words be exchanged, and quickly, another pair of feet were echoing inside the back of the truck. A pair of hands gripped his shoulders, ushering him to his feet quickly. He could Italy speak as he had no choice but to move.  
"Doitsu? Germany, were are you? Please come back..." The Italian's voice shook and threatened to spill over.  
"It vill be alright, Italia." Germany responded quickly. But suddenly, there was no hard surface under his feet and he found himself falling. His stomach dropped and within seconds his shoulder collided with the gravel, causing him to hiss. But there was something a bit off. The blindfold was a bit loose, and he was absolutely positive another shake like that would make it fall off.

Once again he was lifted to his feet, and then marched a couple of yards before being thrown down again blindfold fell off, slipping over his head as he hit the ground, and once again he could see the world around him.

America stood jeeringly, a laugh escaping his throat as he stood in the cool air. England was nearby, a few feet away, watching as Russia went back to the truck, a menacing gleam in his eyes. France, whom he hadn't seen up until then, was leaning against a nearby tree and twirling a hand gun around his finger. Russia was marching back to the truck quickly, his now worn scarf swaying in the breeze behind him, almost waving at Germany as he watched.  
When the Russian dissapeared into the truck, he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or very, very concerned.  
Moments later he could hear Italy cry out, and Russia appeared at the entrance to the hell-like truck trailer they were being kept in. Russia was gripping the Italian by his red-brown hair, his legs swaying as he tried to walk to keep up with him. Russia was fast though, and as Italy stumbled blindly along, blindfold still intact, he was shoved midst the group of Allies forcefully. As he went colliding into the ground, America laughed once more, France stifling a chuckle as he continued to twirl his gun.

Germany closed his eyes. Whatever was happening, he didn't want to see it. He tried to drown out the noise of Italy's sobs with thoughts, because he hated it. He hated how powerless he felt, how the Allies treated them like dog toys. He absolutely despised every bit of it.

There was suddenly a loud bang, and the dust near Italy's head was kicking up slightly in a single spiral. He looked around to see the barrel of France's gun smoking, and he could feel himself grit his teeth and furrow his brow as Italy choked a panicked sob. Tears streamed down the nation's grimy face, and he was speaking quickly, pleadingly, in little hiccups. He felt anger boil inside him as England took out his gun and fired a few scattered shots around the Italian, causing him to cry out in shock and surprise.

He looked closer at Italy, trying to make sure he hadn't gotten hit. As his eyes readjusted to the details, he realized how horrible a shape Italy was in. The seemingly young nation was covered in dirt and grime and dust from being thrown down, he cheek bleeding. His forehead wound was also slightly redder behind the bandage, the brown of dried blood replaced with a dark crimson. He had tear tracks trailing down his face, and a track of dry blood slipping from his mouth. He had more nicks and bruises than before, and most remarkable was the clot of red at his side. He swallowed as he realized that had been were America kicked him.

He looked around for help, spotting a few soldiers who stopped and stared on occasion, but they were always glared at by a nation and didn't stay for long.  
Then he spotted Canada.  
The nation stood cross armed, farther away from the group, his head low as he peered from behind his half moon glasses. He flinched at every shot, his eyes riddled with sadness, regret, guilt, and perhaps even sympathy as the other nation was fired upon and purposefully missed for the entertainment of his captors.

Canada turned around, and Germany made the message clear.  
'Make them stop. Please.'  
Canada held the stare for a moment, his eyes going wide. The Canadian's mouth opened the slightest bit, revealing his gritted teeth, and his eyes fell to the ground, as if ashamed. In a quick and discreet gesture he splayed out his hands and shook his head, his brow turned up.  
'I don't know how.' He seemed to say sorrowfully.  
He flinched at another loud gunshot emitted from England's gun, and Italy screamed in fear and flinched away again.  
'Please try.' Germany silently begged, and the Canadian let out a silent breath.  
A quiet voice interluded among the noise.  
"Uhm... guys... guys, we might waste ammunition if you keep... doing... uhm... doing that..." Canada whispered. "Guys!..." Another two rounds were fired about Italy, who was now curled up and shaking, tears streaming down his face and terrified. "We need to save that!... It doesn't come cheap, eh?..."

Canada became crestfallen as he realized the other Allies were paying not attention to him. He hung his head, still flinching at every shot as his hands fell to his sides. He glanced at Germany helplessly. Germany sighed and bit his lip angrily, trying to hold his tongue and prevent himself from shouting at them to stop; feeling the guilt pile up in his gut again, the tug more powerful than before, as if making him more aware that it was his fault.  
At least, that was what he felt.

As Germany lay on the ground, strengthless to pull himself up, he only prayed they continued to miss the poor nation and that they ran out of bullets quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

Italy felt terrified as Germany's presence dissapeared. He could feel himself panic at the insecurity overcoming him, screaming at him to curl up into a small ball and dissapear, which was something he found he had wanted to do in recent events. He heard Germany hiss, and the sound of gravel crunching beneath boots, the sound slowly fading as he was marched away.  
Italy let out a whimper, feeling lonely as time began to stretch. Mere minutes felt like an hour to him. Suddenly though, he became aware of the gravely sound growing closer, and louder, and there was a thud. Italy froze up, feeling his heart begin to beat against his rib cage, and hard. A familiar grip he couldn't place wound it's way around his hair, taking a firm fistful and lifting him to his trembling feet. He let out a cry as the searing pain of being lifted by his hair alone made him feel as if a hole was being burnt through his already injured head.  
"Stand up." Italy shuddered. He couldn't deny the heavy Russian accent of the person who had forced him painfully to his feet.

"Russia... _piacere_... it hurts-it hurts to walk...I think America broke my rib..." He pleaded, but Russia's grip on his hair tightened and he let a hiss escape through his teeth. He was dragged along, his broken rib on fire as his nerves began to fray. He tried to hold back a shattered scream as Russia pushed him from the back of the truck. He felt his stomach drop sickeningly as Russia jumped down behind him.  
"Get up." Russia ordered.  
He tried to move to his knees, but found the pain in his side too extreme.  
"Get up!" Russia repeated, sending a kick to the nation's stomach.

Italy coughed, and he felt a small stream of blood pool in the corners of his mouth. He fought to his knees once again, but slowly, and soon Russia had once again grabbed him by the hair. The blindfold blocking his vision made him stumble, as he wasn't exactly sure were he was being taken. Soon though, he was shoved forcefully away. A small yelp escaped his sore throat, and he heart America's familiar laugh mock him.  
His head hit the ground hard, and he felt the wound on his head re-open, bringing tears to the corners of his eyes. He bit his lip, tryng not to cry as he heard a few voices speaking above him. France was there, it was obvious. So was England, and America, and of course Russia. If anyone else was there, he couldn't tell.

He swallowed hard, his throat burning as his head spun. Suddenly there was a loud crack, and he let out a choked cry, his voice snapping like twigs. A gush of air near his shoulder, followed by a burst of heat for about two seconds, caused him to assume the worst.  
They were shooting at him.  
" _Piacere!_ Don't kill me! I'll do anything!"  
He heard England laugh, and another loud bang and there was a similar feeling near his ear.

It was very close.  
Too close.  
Much too close.

He began to cry. Surely they were going to kill him.  
"Germany help me!" He cried, his voice breaking again.  
He heard England speak. "Shut up, he's not going to help you."  
After a pause he fought to make the tears go away, a few minutes proving his attempts to be successful.

Another shot near his leg caused him to let out a quiet sob. France laughed.  
"I wonder how many we can get before he actually starts crying." The Frenchman said, and he felt a boot on his chest. Italy sucked in a breath as his ribs closed in around his lungs slowly and painfully. France leant down near his face, and he could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Let's play a game. Five shots without crying, and I won't get to have my _own_ fun with you."  
Italy swallowed and nodded quickly, not sure if the comment was being directed at him. He heard France speak again as the weight was taken off of his chest. "Anyone else got a bet to place?"  
"Eight shots, and I get ten bucks." He heard America say.  
"If he cries at this next one, Canada can't sit in back with them for the rest of the time." England stated, and Italy shuddered as he heard a second gun being loaded.  
He could feel his mind reeling. There had to be a difference between 'shots' and actually being _hit_.

There was a fourth loud bang and he felt himself jump. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood. If France was talking about what he thought, he couldn't let himself cry. At least not yet. A fifth and his shoulder was nearly nicked, and he dodged away, choking a cry of surprise. He could feel his chest heaving as he began to hyperventilate. The sixth shot caused him to jump as his foot was nearly filled with lead. The seventh shot and there was a hot burning scrape across his ear. He screamed, tears slipping past the blindfold and falling down his face.  
"I didn't think he'd last that long." France commented sullenly.  
"Dammit..." He heard America pout.  
England said nothing.

"Keep going." He heard Russia say. "It's funny to watch him jump."  
Italy was already bracing himself when a collection of three quick shots were fired all around him quickly. He sobbed, trying to breathe deeply and calm himself, only to jerk away and have whatever process he had going on stop abruptly when another shot was fired.  
" _Per favore... per favore..."_ He sobbed, feeling his voice wavering.

He knew they weren't listening though. As far as he was concerned, they never would.


	6. Chapter 6 (Canada's POV)

I hate it. I just hate it all. I hate the situation, the timing, and most of all the people thrown into it.

I, Canada, want it to all stop now.  
I want it to just stop.

To be quite honest to myself, I don't think it was their fault. They're nations! Nations do as their country does. How would America have felt if England beat him for his rebellion? Probably as rotten as poor Italy.  
I just don't understand. Why were they taking something as sick as _pleasure_ and _entertainment_ in this? I hadn't the slightest clue, I still don't. I highly doubt I'll ever found out why, no one cares enough about me to fill me in. I did know why they were doing this though.  
Punishment. They were hurting Italy to hurt Germany. It was obvious from day one the two were close, much too obvious. Italy would always try to sit near Germany during world conferences -he couldn't though, he had to sit next to his brothers; South Italy and France, as well as Greece and Austria- and always raised his hand to make his own comment, if Germany asked. Germany always seemed pretty sympathetic to the North Italy's apparent innocence and overall niave attitude.

It makes me sick. Absoloutely sick. I hate it, how they think they can just go about as they wish and ruin the world.

I don't know why France -a man I look up to as my father- laughed at Italy when he was thrown on the ground. They're brothers, aren't they? I think that was what it was. France was the older brother to the Italy twins. How he could be so cruel to someone in his own family confused me.  
I don't know why England didn't want me to continue my job assigned to watch over them in the back of that truck. They probably felt like they were going through hell already, namely Germany -at least I think- because he just can't _do_ anything. If he speaks out, Italy will be punished. If he lashes out, Italy will be punished. If he at least asks them to simply _stop_ the madness, Italy will be punished.  
How America could laugh at him made me angry. My brother, my own _happy, positive, encouraging_ brother was _laughing_ at this cruelty. He placed a bet. He placed a freaking _bet_ on how many shots it would take for Italy to cry. I said nothing as I watched all of this. I didn't want to take part in anything so vile.  
Russia was someone I didn't know about though. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, or how he would usually feel about things like this, but the way he just- I don't even know how to explain it really. He just picked him up by the hair and told him to walk, you know? Like asking a chicken to fly. And then he just pushed him down again.

I flinch as France shoots first. I can hear Italy cry out in surprise; yet still not pain. I don't want to watch either way though. I glance over to were Germany is laying on the ground; but slowly, discreetly. I don't think anyone would notice though. Usually people don't notice me all together.

I can see the anger in his eyes. They flash, like an agitated cat's, and he's gritting his teeth trying not to shout out. I feel my muscles tense as the second and third shots are fired. I can't help but grit my own teeth and try not to speak. I don't know what they might do if _I'm_ the one to ask them to stop, but I don't want to know.  
I look back at Germany again.  
This time he looks me straight in the eyes. I can't help but feel a bit surprised as he does this. But he's trying to silently plead to me. I can just see it in his face, he wants it to _stop,_ he wants it to be _over now_ , and he knows I want that too.

I swallow, trying to think of what to say while building up my courage. I need to do this if I truly want it to end. I glance at Germany for a moment, unsure of what to say, but once again he sends that silent pleading message. I open my mouth to speak, feeling my voice crack, but I continue anyway.  
"Uhm... guys... guys, we might waste ammunition if you keep... doing... uhm... doing that..." I feel almost ashamed at my weak attempts, but I keep going."Guys!..." I speak out again, but two more shots are fired quickly and I can hear Italy choke a sob. I stare for a moment at the blindfolded nation, knowing his eyes are wide behind it as he begins to cry out of pure terror. I speak again, trying to assert myself. "We need to save that!... It doesn't come cheap, eh?..." I feel my voice falter. I hate sometimes, in times of injustice like these, when no one notices me.

I feel guilty. I feel guilty for not being assertive, or noticable, or any of it at all. I glance at Germany.  
"I'm sorry." I mouth, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are glued on the other nation sprawled helplessly on the ground.

I try to direct my attention to something else, anything, as a few more shots are fired and laughs echo across the small area. I shudder as I look up at the sky, hugging myself. It's going to snow soon. It would be awfully cold for anyone, I can tell already, but I guess its a bit stereotypical of me to know. I sort of stare at the sky for a while, my head tilted up and my eyes fluttering. I begin to feel bad for Germany. All he has covering his upper half is a bandage, and that is still not a lot. Maybe later I can lend my coat to him, in the back of the truck. I think its just me tonight.  
I feel my thoughts wander. I wonder why nations cannot die of mortal wounds or flaws, and yet are only effected by political ingenious. I don't know how much time passes as I think of this. I sort of scoff, and realize that my breath comes out in a bright white cloud of heat.

I realize that they've stopped shooting. I guess, since no one notices me, they left inside without me. Germany is no longer there. I don't know were he's gone, I realize. I hope nowhere bad.  
I rub my arms up and down with my gloved hands and glance around.

And then my eyes land on Italy.

He's laying on the ground, on his side, his face pressed into the gravel lightly. His mouth is very slightly agape, small wheezes causing white clouds escape his mouth as he breathes. His side is clotted red and looks like it hurts, and the wound on his forehead seems to have opened behind the old bandage.  
It begins to snow as I walk a few paces up to were he is laying. I stand awkwardly for a moment as the flakes cascade down on my shoulders and begin to lightly blanket him. I realize how pale he is.

"Are you okay?" What a stupid thing to ask. He's obviously not.  
There is a long pause, as if he doesn't realize I'm there. "No." He finally states, quickly and simply.  
I let out another cloudy breath.  
He speaks again, softly. "I-I was lying earlier."  
"...What?"  
"It's getting so cold... and I kept talking to him to k-k-keep him awake, because if he falls asleep he might get t-too cold." Italy swallows. "I lied. I said I was alright. But I d-don't want him to worry about me."  
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Germany.  
"Oh. I can see why you would do that." I respond quietly, slightly saddened by this.

I can feel the anger rising up in my face, but I won't let it show. I spot a few small tears running down Italy's cold bitten cheeks. I lean down and pulled him to sit up, and then just hug him. I hate it. I just hate it so, so, so, so much. I want it to be over now, but I know it wasn't. He sort of just sits there in my arms, before burrowing his face in my shoulder. And then he begins to cry.  
"I'm scared." He says.  
"I know." I respond.  
"You heard wha-what France said, no?"  
"Yeah I did."  
I could feel my gut pull angrily, no, _guiltily_ as we sat in the gathering snow.

I hate it all so much.


	7. Chapter 7

Italy felt cold. He didn't exactly know who was holding him so gently after all this time, since it wasn't -to his surprise- Germany. The person was wearing a heavy leather jacket with a woolen collar, and had shoulder length hair. That he knew. And had a kind, quiet voice. He hadn't heard a voice like that in what felt like forever. The only person he could compare that sort of voice to was Japan, but he seemed more calm than kind, though still kind in his own way.

He also knew the person was aware of his injuries, he was being minded carefully and gently. It felt like forever until the person moved, lifting him in his arms gently to move him. He let out a hiss as he felt his wounds contsrict. His side began to burn as the broken bone moved from its bed in his flesh, and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry! Please, try not to move!" The voice he heard came out panicked slightly, but still trying to maintain control.  
He said nothing, letting himself be carried to wherever it was. Soon he heard the familiar tin-like clanking of the floor he had been laying on for so long, and he felt whoever it was scoot onto it slowly, before lowering him to the ground gently.

"I'll be back. Don't worry. I'm going to find Germany. It's getting dark, so we'll be leaving soon." The voice said, and he simply laid there. He could hear the voice sigh sadly, before leaving.

And for a while he was alone.  
He could feel the cold air biting into his nose and fingers, his ear burning from were the bullet nicked him. His side burned, badly, and he knew the bone was way out of place by this point. His hips ached from walking, his nerves frayed. He rolled onto his side and curled up, beginning to cry. He let out a series of shaky breaths before letting himself relax, still curled up.

"Is he okay?" Italy felt his eyes go wide from behind the blindfold.  
"I haven't done anything yet, I don't want them to risk spotting any bandages or anything, at least not now. I'll start fixing him up when we leave. It'll be difficult, but I can do it." The other voice said.  
"Doitsu?" He croaked.  
"Italia?"  
He began to cry again, but this time it was tears of joy. Germany was okay, and that was all he needed to know.  
"Doitsu! Y-you're okay!" He fought to sit up, putting a small smile on his face.  
He heard the tin-like noise again. He heard the back flap of the truck be locked closed, and suddenly Germany was there beside him. He couldn't see, but he could tell. Just a bandage on his chest gave it away, since the first thing Germany did was hug him -sort of, his hands were apparently still tied behind his back, so he put his chin on his head and hunched over slightly- but his voice alone was good enough too.

"Oh Italia... I didn't realize how bad..." Germany didn't need to finish his scentance.  
"I know, it's okay."  
"Stop saying zhat, please." Germany seemed sad as he said that.  
Italy felt a frown crawl onto his face. He began to shake, sniffing and trying to hold back tears. He looked at were he thought Germany was.  
"C-can you see?" He asked quietly, almost ashamedly.  
"Ja, I can." Germany stated this slowly and uncertainly.  
There was a long pause between the two. Italy sucked in a high pitched breath all of the sudden, and then burrowed his head in Germany's chest, and began to sob.  
"It hurts so much." Italy hiccuped, trying to breathe.  
Germany didn't say anything, and for a moment he seemed shocked.  
"It hurts!" Italy wailed, sobbing louder. He tried to restrain the noise as much as possible, but it came out louder than he expected, so he choked it back. His sobs grew quieter and quieter every time, until he was shivering. "Doitsu..." He hiccuped sadly, before speaking again; "It hurts. But I don't think they're gonna stop."

 **oOoOo**

Germany felt a series of mixed emotions as he saw Canada growing closer.  
He wasn't sure weather to feel angry or sad or relieved, since there were a lot of complications with him.  
But before he could speak Canada interluded. "Italy's safe. At least, as safe as possible. I can take you to him, we'll be leaving soon anyway."  
He simply nodded, letting Canada lead him slowly down the stairs of one of the raised houses -they had sat him down outside, and before he knew it, it was snowing- shivering the whole way. It was a quick walk across the gravel expanse, and by then the snow was blanketing the ground by an inch or two. He could feel himself grit his teeth as he spotted a reddish-pink area, presumably were Italy had been. He wasn't there anymore though.

"Over here." Canada stated simply.  
"Is he okay?" He asked.

"I haven't done anything yet, I don't want them to risk spotting any bandages or anything, at least not now. I'll start fixing him up when we leave. It'll be difficult, but I can do it." Canada replied worriedly as they grew close. He could see the concern on the other nation's face, the actual and true worry, and that alone made him trust the shy nation. As Canada replied, he realized that they were growing close to the truck they had been kept in the entire time. From inside, a small voice echoed.  
"Doitsu?"  
He could feel a lump form in his throat, and stumbled along with more speed and determination. "Italia?" He called back, awkwardly climbing in.

He spotted Italy in a far corner of the truck, struggling to his knees. A pang was sent through his chest as he saw how beaten the small nation looked, blood caking his forhead and his pale face dirtied. He was shaking from either cold or lack of food, and his side looked even redder than before, and it looked like he was in pain while trying to get to his feet. And yet, the entire time, he had that small childish smile on his face, welcoming him.  
"Doitsu! Y-you're okay!"  
That pang ran through his chest again as Italy scooted forward and closer. He let out a quick hiss of pain, but fought to keep the smile on his face.

Germany quickly swallowed the lump in his throat and made a stupid attempt to hug him, putting his chin on the shorter nation's head. Italy shivered as he pressed his face into his chest, but Germany didn't mind."Oh Italia... I didn't realize how bad..." He felt his words fade away.  
"I know, it's okay." He felt his mind reeling at how Italy could state that so simply.  
"Stop saying zhat, please." He whispered, feeling his gut pull guiltily.

There was a long pause as Italy leaned away slightly, somehow pinpointing were he was exactly. He opened his jaw, and he shook as he spoke.  
"C-can you see?"  
He felt somewhat surprised at the pure _shame_ in Italy's voice, and the nation sat back on his heels, gazing at the ground. He seemed to be fighting tears.  
"Ja, I can." Germany responded.  
"It hurts so much." Italy suddenly said. The words came out fast and soft, but still firm and all the while ringing with truth.  
"It hurts!" Suddenly Italy reeled forward and burrowed his face into his chest, until he couldn't see anything but half of his face and a mop of reddish-brown hair. The words came out like a wail, a cry for help, he was surprised by how loud they were. Italy began to sob uncontrollably, and he could feel his slightly hardened expression soften. He put his chin on Italy's head as he sobbed.  
"Doitsu..." He finally said when the velocity of the tears slowed considerably, and he spoke and breathed in small hiccups. "It hurts. But I don't think they're gonna stop."

Germany felt guilty. Very guilty. It was all his fault that they had gotten into this mess.  
He glanced at Canada.  
"It's going to be okay." Germany finally said. "I'm sorry."


	8. Chapter 8

Japan hadn't the slightest clue how to asses such a situation.

China said nothing to him as he was led to the truck, a firm grip on his arm, and he said nothing back. It was as if the two had come to a mutual agreement not to speak, and it wasn't like Japan had much to say. From the moment China had found him sobbing in the remains of one of his cites, it was clear how dissapointed China was. He could simply feel it radiating from her, and she had every right to feel that way, she hadn't raised him like that.

It was snowing as he was led, wrists tied, to a caravan truck. China quickly opened the pinned up back, and Japan hadn't even a few moments to glance in before he was shoved in. He fought to his knees, thunderstruck by how _mean_ she was being.

He scoffed. Mean wasn't hardly good enough to explain it. After a few moments he glanced around. A smile grew on his face.  
"Germany! Itary! _Ā, tasukarimashita!_ You are okay!" He shuffled forward, paying no mind to the fourth person in the small space as the 'door' was shut behind him.  
That was when he saw the angry look on Germany's face, and were Italy was propped against a seat and letting out pain filled whimpers.  
"Japan?" Italy asked weakly.  
He glanced at Germany. " _Nani!? Dō yatte!?_ What has happened here?"  
There was a long pause as Germany and Japan stared at each other, before the German finally bit his lip and seemed to look ashamed.  
"Zhey hurt him to punish me." Germany finally said.  
Japan's face fell as he scooted closer to Italy. He felt some sort of protective urge fall over him, reaching forward with his tied hands -he felt angry that both Germany and Italy were tied behind their backs- and cupped his hands around Italy's face. The nation's head was perched on the seat, and he was blindfolded, so it was hard to see if his eyes were open or not. His mouth was slightly agape, and he was breathing lightly and shakily. There were tear tracks racing through the grime on his face, and he had an open wound on his forehead, the bandage beginning to slip.  
" _Gomenesi,_ he's not doing good." Japan said softly, looking back up at Germany, who was watching guiltily. "What do they do to him?"  
Germany opened his mouth to speak. "I don't even know how to put it..."  
Japan stared at him, trying to see past he nation's deep blue eyes, and yet still all he saw was guilt.

"Canada is kind enough to help as much as he can."  
As Germany glanced over at the said nation, Japan noticed him. He seemed very -tense. Not only that, he also had a guilty look on his face, as if it was his fault.

Japan looked down sadly, and then back up again.  
"At reast we can try to get through this."

 **oOoOo**

I can feel the pit of my stomach fall as the engine starts. I thought I saw the top of France's head pass by for a moment beforehand, so it's most likely the latter who is now driving.  
I glance down at the three helpless souls I've decided to watch over. Japan is laying on the floor asleep, curled up slightly, his hands curled up beside his head, since his were tied in front.  
Italy is also asleep, but with his mouth open it's easy to hear the raspy breaths he is taking. He is positioned awkwardly to the side, since his hands are tied firmly behind his back, his head on his shoulder as he lay curled up on his un-wounded side. And then there is Germany, who is sitting stoically between them, almost acting as a guard himself.

We make eye contact for a few moments, but it doesn't seem to hold as he averts his gaze outside, were the snow is still flurrying down in a white haze. I let out a breath, knowing that soon I'll have to fix Italy's wounds.  
Half of me doesn't want to, I know that he will only suffer more, if only temporarily.

I shift in my seat uneasily, gazing at them, and then back out to were the snow is casting a silvery-grey light inside. I don't know why, but it seems kind of peaceful. The lighting, the near silence, the rumble and rocking of the caravan truck as we carried on, and the fact that for once, no one was being hurt in any way; physically or emotionally. I rub my hands together, not exactly eager for what is coming. I'll let Italy sleep for a half-hour more, but if by then he hasn't woken up, I would have to wake him myself.  
I don't really want to do that. The nation deserves some form of rest after his abuse, I knew, and the last thing I wanted was to deprive him from it.

I resort to zoning, staring out the small open crack between the door and the top of the truck at the snow flurrying behind, the few trucks following us as we traveled through a white landscape. I don't know how much time passes until it seems Italy had awoken.  
"Doitsu?" The weak nation calls quietly. "Kiku?"  
"It's alright Italia, vhe are still here." Germany says, scooting closer to Italy as if to provide warmth.

I open my mouth to speak, wincing at the strange cracking noise it made.  
"Should I-" I asked.  
Germany glances at me a moment before nodding.  
"Here." I say, taking off my furry jacket and draping it over the German's shoulders. "You need it more than I do, eh?"  
I feel myself smile a little bit as his gaze softens. But then I turn back to Italy, kneeling down gently. I don't want to spook him, he must be a least a little delirious from what's been happening.  
"Italy?" I ask.  
"Canada?" He responds, swiveling his head to locate my voice.  
I let out a sigh of relief. Still okay enough to process things. That's good. "I'm not going to untie you, just in case they pull over and check back here. If they saw you untied, then we all might be in big trouble, eh?" I say.  
He nods. I still pull off the blindfold to reveal a pair of brown, doe-like eyes.  
"I have some antibiotics and bandages, and the antibiotics are going to sting a lot, especially after all the stuff that's gotten into your cuts by now. I'm going to need to put your rib back in place, but I need to know if you want me to do that first or last."  
There is a long pause before he speaks again.  
"First." He states nervously.  
"Okay then. Let's get started, eh?"

At that point Japan is awake, and is watching intently at how I proceed. I take out the little bottle and package of extended bandages, setting it on the seat nearby, before I gently help Italy to a laying position. After doing this I slowly pull off his uniform top and shirt, revealing the wound underneath.

I stare. What caused my brother to be so violent? Stress? Hatred? I don't know, but the wound looks horrible.  
The fact alone that I can clearly define Italy's ribs was disturbing, but as I glance at the wound that America had caused, I fight back the urge to retch. The area around where he had been kicked was black and purple, small red and pink cuts in the skin framing the wound more and more as it reached the center. The wound itself was a madhouse. A small, thin portion of the flesh had been ripped away, if only by mere millimeters, to reveal were a large scab resided.  
I shake. I don't want to do this.

"Italy, I'm going to have to find were your rib is okay?" I say. "This is going to hurt." I speak honestly. I have to prepare him as best as I an, even if words can't do very much at this point in the situation.  
I glance at Germany and Japan, who are both staring in horror and disbelief at the bone breaking wound.  
I suck in a breath between my teeth before probing it.  
Italy instantly cries out, causing me to recoil.  
"Gnah!" He wails, curling up.  
"Oh god! I'm sorry!" I exclaim.

Oh, I hate it all already! I just hate it! I try to calm my nerves, taking in a deep breath. I then feel around, Japan with a comforting hand on the nation's shoulder, as he begins to choke hiccuping sobs. I can feel my heart break. They don't deserve this hell at all!  
I finally find the bone, after what seems like too long to me, and I quickly snapped it back in place. Italy lets out a gasp before wailing once more, and then letting the tears he had -mere moments before- been trying to hold back flow freely.  
"Good job, now I have to put on the antibiotics, okay?" He nods. "Japan, please scoot over here, hold his hand." Japan takes my orders easily, shifting behind Germany -who was also looking watery-eyed- and sitting behind Italy, gripping the nation's hand. I can see Italy's hand grow tight around Japan's as I try to gently rub in the disinfectants, the rocking of the car occasionally causing me to accidentally jab the wound and cause him to let out a weak and strangled sob.

"You're doing good Italia, keep it up." Germany says. I pause for a split second as I realize how shaky his voice is. Not strong and brave, but... _heartbroken._ I quickly snatch up the bandages and begin to wrap them around his frail form, tightly, yet still loose enough as to not cause too much pain. Italy is pretty limp -to the point were I am almost terrified- as I do this, weaving my hand between his back and the floor and then around and around again, until it's all gone and I have no choice but to tuck the loose end away. After that I gently put his shirt and uniform back on, wincing at the purplish bloodstain.

" _Danke_." Germany says. I glance up, sitting back on my heels.  
"Oh, I just hate it all right now!" I say. My voice doesn't come out very strong or menacing, instead quiet and temperamental, but Japan still glances up at me with a concerned expression.  
"I just hate how they think they can go about and do whatever they want, eh?" I fume quietly. I grind my teeth together, balling my fists at my sides, before standing up suddenly. Italy flinches away, and whatever angered expression I have on my face fades away quickly. I don't say anything, sitting down hard on the bench by the door.

I really can't stand it anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

Germany sat numbly in the back of the soldier wagon. Italy was crying softly from Canada's hodgepodge attempt at trying to put him back together. He felt grateful for it, even if it wasn't much. He could feel both Japan and Italy leaning against him, sharing what warmth the three of them had. He was also grateful for Canada lending him his coat. He knew that when they stopped again, he would need it back, but he relished the warmth while he had it.

He glanced outside absentmindedly, seeing snow flurrying quickly by. The sky was white, the only thing breaking that white being the black and ragged branches of dead trees, but those images lasted for mere moments. He let out a sigh and glanced downward, seeing Japan breathing softly, staring out the back. Italy was asleep, his breath shaky still.  
He spotted Canada curled up on a nearby seat, staring out the window. His jaw was set, and his lips pursed as he stared, as if aware of how hard that had been for all of them.

He felt the truck turn around a corner. He stiffened, trying to stay as straight as possible to not bother Japan or Italy. They where going slower now, pulling over hills and such, before it came to a stop. Canada gently took his coat back and put it on -guiltily, almost- and sat near the door. Germany stiffened warily, and watched the door.

After a few minutes it opened. Russia stood at the door. A cold air filtered in as he entered. He glanced at Canada.  
"America needs you."  
"Bu-"  
"Go!" He exclaimed.  
Canada quickly left, casting a look of disdain into the back as he left. Germany watched, before glancing up at Russia. He glared and gritted his teeth, trying to look menacing. After a few moments, Russia strode closer, grabbing some of the hair on his head and slamming the back of his head into the cab. Germany grunted, screwing his eyes shut as he was forced to stand awkwardly.

He peeled his eyes open when he heard shuffling. He saw Japan move to sit in front of Italy, staring at Russia warily. Russia kept one hand pinning his head to the cab, before the other hit his throat. Germany coughed, trying to hunch over as he felt the urge to retch.  
Suddenly he felt someone squeezing his throat. His eyes widened as Russia started to squeeze. He writhed, kicking out, but Russia's grip was much too strong. He remained pinned to the back of the cab.  
He choked, continuing to try to pull away. He could feel his strength draining quickly, red flashes appearing before his eyes. He heard Japan gasp, and Italy seemed to wake. But he kept his eyes glued on Russia's face.  
The other nation's expression was hardened, his teeth gritted and his eyes narrowed. Germany glared back, feeling his mouth begin to foam slightly as he attempted to breathe.  
"Doitsu!" Japan cried.  
"Germany!?" He heard Italy cry.  
"I-Talia..." He croaked, struggling desperately to free himself. "Ja-pan..."  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Japan and Italy sitting in shock and confusion. Italy was staring with wide eyes, and it looked like he was silently crying, his mouth agape. Japan looked almost exactly the same, shocked and terrified.

Germany felt as if his lungs where beginning to pull taut, perhaps even shrinking. At this point Russia began to shake him. He could feel his head hit the back of the cab roughly, pain arcing through his skull repeatedly. He heard Italy begin to sob at the violence, Japan trying to quiet him.  
As soon as Germany began to black out, the hands dissapeared, and he was thrown to the floor. He could feel his heart thumping quickly, his head aching. He opened his eyes after a moment to see Russia standing over him, facing Japan and Italy. Japan was sitting in front of the trembling nation protectively, glaring at Russia and trying to seem scary.

Russia snatched his wrists, and immediately he cowered, staring at the floor. Russia grunted in annoyance, tossing him to the side. His head hit one of the seats with a stomach twisting thud, and he fell to the floor limply, his chest heaving.  
Russia took a few single steps to close the space between him and Italy's form. The weak nation was obviously terrified out of his wits, tears streaming down his face as he cowered in the corner.  
" _Per favore! P-per favore,_ Ivan!" He exclaimed as Russia grabbed his hair and pulled him to his knees. He was quite literally begging, staring up at Russia as he sat on his heels, cowering.

Germany tried to gather what energy he had as Russia gritted his teeth, looking away for only a split moment before pinning the smaller nation against the wall of the cab. He began to throttle Italy, violently shaking him back and forth. His eyes where wide, shattered wails escaping his throat as he tried to pull away. He emitted loud choking noises, his head banging against the wall. Finally Russia released him, and he was left staring at the ceiling in shock, his face red as he continued to cry, strained and shaky breaths escaping his crushed throat.  
Germany fought to his knees, only to have Russia's knee collide with the side of his head. He went toppling to the ground once more, his head spinning. Germany could feel anger biting away at his core as the shock began to fade. He watched helplessly as Japan was cornered once more, and Russia threw him aside violently. He landed near Italy, who was beginning to tremble once more, curling up on himself. Russia finally left, shutting the back behind him as he left.

It took quite a while before Germany finally dared move again. He was tense, simply waiting for Russia or someone else to come and and beat them more.

But there was simply silence. And cold.

After a while, Germany sat up. As soon as he moved, both Japan and Italy scooted closer to him with what strength they had left. They all huddled together, staring at the door and waiting, hardly able to stay conscious.

A few hours later Canada entered. He sat in the corner, as if he was aware of what had happened. As if he felt it was his fault.

Soon the engine started, and they left again.  
Germany struggled to swallow, his throat burning as he tried to sleep again.

He hadn't expected that to happen.  
He truly hoped that it would never happen again.

 **oOoOo**

Italy let out a shaky breath. His head was spinning, and pounding, and it wouldn't stop. He felt as if he was going to throw up, but he simply didn't have enough energy to do so. He held his stomach gently, his head against Germany's shoulder. Japan was laying on top of him, his head on Italy's own shoulder.  
He didn't bother move. He didn't want to wake them up. He knew they where asleep because they where both very warm, and they took big breaths without much trouble. He snuggled into Germany's shoulder slightly more, causing him to let out a sigh. Japan sighed as well, shifting.

Italy allowed himself to let out his own sigh. He stared at the exit, and the snow flurrying down outside. He could feel the cold raking its relentless talons across his form, and he felt himself begin to shiver.  
Canada glanced at him, but he looked away, breaking whatever eye contact they two had shared. Canada smiled softly though, seeming sad, perhaps even sympathetic.  
"I'm sorry about all of this." Canada whispered softly.  
Italy said nothing, continuing to stare at the floor. He took in another shaky breath, feeling the urge to cry again. He sniffed, and within moments he heard footsteps. He cringed instinctively, but he felt a soft, warm hand on his shoulder.

He glanced up.  
Canada seemed at a loss for words, but the look on his face was... sad. And guilty.  
"Please don't hate me." Canada said softly, glancing at the floor. "I'm so, so sorry..."  
Italy leaned forward and made a weak, fruitless attempt to hug the other. Canada seemed frozen for a moment, before he hugged back. Italy began to cry again. His shoulders shook, and he bent his head and cried. He simply cried. He didn't scream or anything. Just quiet sniffs and warm tears.

Canada hugged him, and after a while Italy finally found the strength to form words.  
"I'm... I'm-a so... so scared..." He whispered, gripping Canada's coat.  
"I-" Canada started, but he didn't continue. He simply sat there and allowed the other to calm, however long that would take.

The car slowly came to a stop.  
Canada left, slowly, glancing at the door with a hardened expression, though his eyes still spelled out a clear fear for the others.

The others woke quickly as a door was slammed shut, and Italy huddled back between them. They all stared at the door warily. Italy could feel his heart sink as the door was opened.

America stood there.

He strode in, and Italy could feel his words echoing about in his mind.  
' _Shut up and take it next time._ ' He shuddered, trying to huddle closer to the two others. He could feel them tense, and he had no doubt that they where staring at America quite darkly.

But America quite literally pushed them both aside and left Italy, sitting alone and vulnerable. They stared at each other, and Italy immediately felt terror settle over his shoulders. America snatched his wrists, dragging him to his feet.

He began to tremble, his eyes wide as he stared up at him, those words simply echoing through his head.  
"It's my turn now." America stated blatantly.  
He felt confused by the statement, but no less terrified. America began dragging him to the exit. He began to struggle, adrenaline filling his veins. He pulled, letting loose a scream.  
"Gnah!" He pulled, trying to stand his ground, but America kept pulling him along. He mustered enough strength to kick America.

America instantly released him, sending him falling to the floor as his knees buckled. He collapsed, and instantly curled up, preparing to be beaten.  
"Still gotta follow the rules then." America grunted.  
He shivered as America moved on, cracking his eyes open to see America approach Japan. The other nation was on his knees, mouth agape, staring and apparently terrified of the other.  
" _Nien!"_ Germany exclaimed. "Don't touch eizher of zhem!"  
In that instant, Japan was hit with one of the most forceful uppercuts Italy had ever seen. Japan's head hit the back of the cab from the force, a sickening thud resounding from it as he collapsed on the floor in shock.  
Italy froze as America moved in to start kicking him.  
"No!" Italy stammered.

America froze, turning around to stare at where he was fighting to his knees.  
" _P-per favore..._ don't hurt them..." He finished the sentence staring at the floor. America marched over quickly, and he looked away. America reached to grab his face, just like before.  
"We have a hero here, don't we?" America grinned.  
Italy shivered, trying to pull away.  
"Don't touch him!" Germany growled, but his warnings where payed no heed to.

Canada was trembling, watching, apparently unsure of what to do. America lifted him to his feet again. He bit his tongue to hold back a whimper, and was quickly shoved forward. His feet missed the edge of the truck, and he fell. He hit the snow covered ground hard.  
"Agh!" Italy yelped as he hit the ground, feeling tears gather in his eyes.

America leapt to the ground beside him, before stepping over the small, trembling heap that was Italy. He began to shiver as the wind bit into his thin uniform, and snow was quickly settling on his back.

As if on cue, a punch was sent sailing into his stomach. He choked, coughing. He saw a bit of red land in the snow. He felt the urge to vomit at that, his throat burning as if someone had ripped it out and sewn it back in. His stomach felt like the sun itself, contrasting greatly with the rest of his freezing body.

Another punch, and more blood found its way to the snow. He let out a cry.  
"Stop zhat!" He heard Germany shout. There was no doubt they where all watching from the back of the truck now.  
He hacked, a pool of blood melting the few inches of snow. He retched at that. Suddenly his head felt numb. Pain arced through his ear, and he fell to his side in the snow. He choked back the urge to wail, squeezing his eyes shut.

Another kick was aimed at his stomach, and he couldn't help but begin to speak at this point, heat overwhelming him even in the snow.  
" _Piacere!"_ America seemed to stop. "No more... no more... _per favore..."_ Each word was spaced with large gasps. He allowed himself to begin to cry, trembling in the snow.

He was simply done.  
He had given up.

" _...per favore..._ "


	10. Chapter 10

Japan was exhausted.  
He felt hungry, thirsty and extremely sleep deprived, and yet he could not seek shelter in the marvelous world of slumber. He felt somewhat uneasy though. He wasn't sure if the Canadian was truly a friend, there was always the chance that the Allies were still playing games with them.

His head was spinning still, from when Russia had thrown him around. He could make out red marks on both Italy and Germany's throats, like imprints of some crime on concrete. It was terrifying to think of just how violent that had been, Russia shaking them like rag dolls before throwing them down like puppets.  
He hated to think about it.

He could still feel where Italy had gripped his hand, the nails digging in enough to nearly draw blood. He himself hadn't felt physical pain that bad. He hadn't the slightest clue what Italy was going through, but the wound itself had seemed to have burnt its image into his mind. The way the thin layer of skin had been pulled away, the large maroon scab that seemed like some sort of burn against his pale skin, the heavy purple and black bruises pelting the area around it. Part of him actually wanted to be sick as he watched Canada attempt to repair the wound.  
He, as per Canada's well foreseen request, had scooted to sit behind Italy, where his hands were tied, and hold one. The nation had gripped his hand hard, but he didn't mind. He simply kept muttering comforting things, trying to ease him of his pain and yet with no prevail.

He swallowed, his throat burning as he tried to draw his mind away from the thought of thirst. He closed his eyes lightly, trying to fall asleep.  
Then again, he only felt more aware of his surroundings. He could hear the flapping of the canvas cover in the wind, and feel the chilling breeze of the cold air as they crossed through mountain ranges. The sound of the cars' engines vibrated in his head, and the floor felt warmer than anything else other than Germany, who sat between him and Italy like some sort of warrior.

He felt slightly comforted by this, as a matter of fact. Germany was still taking charge in a way, still being a leader as much as he could in such a situation. The rumbling of the car began to lull him to sleep slightly, and he let his eyelids fall shut, listening to the engine and the rattling of machinery beneath them.  
Part of him felt concerned for what would happen later on. He didn't know what had happened to Italy, and most of him didn't want to know, but then again he wanted to be aware of what was going to threaten him. If Italy was being beaten to punish Germany, there was a high chance that he would be beaten again too. And if what Germany had said to him, quietly, was true about France; there were other things on the list of threats.

Over and over again, he tried to fall asleep, but found he couldn't.  
Fear was keeping him awake. He couldn't help but think about what each of the Allies could be scheming, possibly even Canada as well. He could feel time ticking away in his head, until the truck stopped.  
With a sigh he sat up.  
He glanced over to see that both Italy and Germany were asleep, Italy laying peacefully on Germany's other side, Germany leaning against the wall, his head on his chest, his eyes shut. Japan looked around and saw Canada.

The nation was sitting farthest away from them, leaning against the back of the truck. He had a notebook in his hand, a pencil in the other. Japan could see the end jerking, and the nation didn't seem to notice him, either sketching or writing away.

The door opened, startling Germany awake. His head whipped up unbelievably fast, and he blinked rapidly. Canada stood, staring warily at the entrance as it was lowered down. France stood at the exit, and he had a dirty smirk on his face.

He climbed up into the back with ease, and Japan's hands shot up to Germany's shoulder to hold him back as he moved forward, his teeth gritted and brow furrowed.  
France emitted that strange laugh. "Hohohoh... angry little bugger, eh?"  
France leaned forward until he and Germany's foreheads touched. There was a long pause as Germany stared at France, the smug grin still on his face, before he looked away. France then glanced at Japan. Japan simply stared, narrowing his lips into a thin line and furrowing his brow.

His brown eyes flickered to where Canada was sitting. The nation was staring wide eyed, seemingly terrified for them. They two made eye contact for a moment before Japan glanced back at France.  
The Frenchman quickly stepped back, and began to pace, staring at them.

And then his eyes landed on Italy.  
Japan felt his eyes grow wide.  
"France..." He said slowly, as if warning the other nation.  
But he was ignored.

"Wake up." France kicked Italy's leg, causing him to stir.  
Italy sat up, already beginning to shake.  
"Wha- where are..." Italy didn't get to finish his sentence as France pressed his hand over his mouth. Italy let out a gasp of surprise, trying to lean away, but France gripped the hair behind his head.  
"Shh..." France said quietly.

Germany bit his tongue, glaring daggers into the nation. Japan followed in suit, staring as France continued.  
"So young looking." France stated, running a finger down Italy's cheek. Italy shuddered, seemingly aware of what it seemed like was going to happen.  
"And innocent." France stated, a greedy grin growing on his face. He ran his hand down Italy's front.  
Germany moved forward a few inches as Italy whimpered, but Japan continued to hold him back.  
"And you make the funniest noises." France ran his finger along Italy's inner thigh, causing the nation to jump and let out a whimper.  
"F-France..." Italy whispered shakily. " _Piacere_..."  
France the reached up and quickly pulled his curl. Italy let out another whimper, though this one was of pain.  
" _Per favore..._ "

France said nothing more, reaching behind Italy and grabbing his tied hands, and beginning to lead him out of the truck.  
"No! _Piacere!_ I-I don't want this!" Italy struggled feebly, his voice ringing with pure and definite terror.  
"Italia!" Germany called.  
"Itary!" Japan exclaimed. He lunged forward, grabbing France's boot as Italy kicked out, trying to free himself.  
France paused, before throwing Italy to the floor with a disturbingly loud thud, and whirling around to take Japan by the hair.  
He screwed his eyes shut, letting out a hiss of pain.  
He stared at France, who stared back. France then ran his finger down Japan's face as well, leaving the nation to stand as he paced around him, stepping over where Italy was curled up and crying quietly. Canada was now on his feet, but France payed him no mind, walking around the island nation once more.  
" _Gomenesi._ " Japan stated bitterly, averting his gaze from the other nation as France put his finger under his chin and lifted it up.

He could hear Germany breathing heavily behind him, Italy stiffing small choking sobs every once and a while. He heard France chuckle, before the man grabbed his wrists, and yanked Italy up by the collar of his shirt.  
" _Mien Gott_..." Germany hissed. "You bastard!" His voice began to climb to a shout. "Don't you dare hurt them! You son of a bitch!"  
"Germany help me!" Italy sobbed, continuing to fight France's grip. France paused, lifting Italy over his shoulder with ease. The terrified nation began to wail, and for a split moment, Japan whirled around and locked eyes with Germany.

And for once, he made some part of him not calm as it usually was. Instead, he let them be filled with fear, shock, and despracy. As he let his eyes lock with Germany's he let out one single message.

Help.


	11. Chapter 11

Japan hadn't the slightest clue how long it had been.  
France had already taken his pleasures with his body, and now he lay in the closet helplessly. His ass hurt and his throat was sore. He could hear Italy crying out in the other room, wind rattling the panes of the narrow window in the frame. The breeze leaked through into the room, cold against his bare skin. The only warmth and comfort he had was a small, thin blanket he had found in the corner. He shivered, and heard the noise stop. The door was unlocked from the other side, and Italy was thrown in. Japan glanced up as the nation collapsed to his knees, his hands now hanging, tied tightly in front.  
He choked a sob, and Japan leaned forward to allow the other nation to lean on him weakly.

He had bite marks on his neck, and bruises on his back and arms. The bandage had been ripped away from both his side and his forehead, and his blindfold fell around his neck. Dried blood ran down his leg, and there was no doubt it would remain there for a while. Japan wrapped the thin blanket he had found around both him and Italy, and they curled up in the corner.  
Italy simply cried, and Japan said nothing; allowing Italy to wet his bare skin. He hadn't the slightest clue where his clothes were, since they were most likely in the other room under France's bed.

"Itary...?" Japan said after a moment.  
"Hmm..." Italy replied softly.  
"You remember that song, you wourd sing?"  
Italy nodded.  
"Do you mind? I think it wourd cheer us both up."

There was a long pause before Italy began to sing.  
"Draw a circle, that's the earth... d-draw a circle... that's the earth... draw a c-c-circle that's the earth, and I-I-I'm Italia..." Japan and Italy leaned on each other, and Japan realized how raspy his voice was, shaky and croaky. "Ohhhhh... ha-ha-how amazing it is... to see tha-the world in one s-s-single s-stroke... toast with a r-really bi-ig boot... I-Ita-..."  
Italy choked another sob.  
"Italie-aa..."

And then Italy began to sob.  
" _Gomenesi..."_ Japan whispered. "I didn't rearize how much it wourd hurt you..."  
Italy said nothing in response, curling up against Japan's bony frame.

"It's-a okay... we're gonna get out of this..." Italy whispered.

Japan said nothing, looking up at the ceiling.

He hoped so. He simply couldn't bear the pain any longer, or having to watch his friends suffer at the Allies' expense. He looked back down to Italy.  
The other nation was hunched over his knees, trembling, his eyes glued on the far wall less than three feet away. His amber eyes were wide, the irises practically shaking as tears continued to slide down his face. His teeth were gritted, his lips pulled back as he tried to quiet himself. He was trembling, hugging his knees to his chest. His reddish-brown hair hung in his face, matted and dirty; blood plastering some strands to his forehead.

Suddenly Italy's eyes flew wide, and he threw away the blanket, crouching in the corner and clutching his stomach.  
"Itary!?" Japan whispered in surprise, beginning to rush forward and put his hand on his friend's back.  
He got there just in time, as the Italian began to vomit moments later, his stomach constricting as he made weak gargling noises.  
"Gnah!" Italy began to cry harder, bile landing onto the floor as Japan patted his back and held back strands of hair that would get in the way. "G-gahh..."  
"Ret it come out, it wirr be arright."  
"Gnaah! It hurts!" Italy cried, clutching his stomach as leaned forward again to heave.  
"I know..." He whispered.  
"Kah... gah... it hurts..." Italy's whispered, before curling up against the wall again. Japan sat next to him, and draped the blanket over both of them.

He truly hoped to escape this place soon.

 **oOoOo**

Italy was very tired.  
His head ached, and he was sure the scab on his side had broken up very slightly while France was... using him. His stomach still hurt from when he threw up in the corner. But Japan was asleep. He couldn't help but stay awake, idly blinking his eyes as they hung low, but still unable to sleep.  
Half of him was keeping an eye out, ready to offer himself up again so that Japan would not suffer.  
Then again, the other half was terrified enough to keep him awake and simply waiting in the empty room. He was hugging his knees, not moving because he knew the scab could break again, or he could throw up once more, or possibly create enough noise to bring France in; even though he didn't know if the other nation was even there or not.

He was shivering. It was cold. Even with the panel shaped square of sunshine on the floor, shinning through the window and casting a dull grey-golden glow on the wooden slats of the floor. A cold breeze seeped in through the cracks in the floor, the places in the window that weren't sealed in, from under the door; causing him to shiver, a strange unsettling feeling racing up his spine.

He let out a shaky, shivering breath, glancing at Japan, who was still sleeping.

Suddenly, with a loud bang, the door was thrown open. Italy jumped and cowered, Japan waking almost instantly. Russia stood outside the door, their clothing in his hand.  
"Get up. Give me your hands." Russia ordered.

After a long pause, they got to their feet, and Italy turned around, sticking out his hands. He felt Russia's gloved hand wrap around his wrists. And then the ropes fell away from his hands, and for a moment he was surprised. Japan quietly obeyed as well, extending his wrists, which were tied in front, to allow Russia to cut them away.

Before they could move out the door, Russia tossed their clothes in and slammed the door shut.  
The two glanced at each other before beginning to dress.

By the time Japan had dressed himself and managed to -painfully- get Italy into his uniform, Russia stood outside the door. There was a long pause as he unlocked it, the two standing as tall and straight and proudly as possible, but Russia took their wrists and tied them, just as before.

Japan glanced at Italy, whose eyes were fluttering as they stepped outside. Then he glanced forward. In front of them, down some wooden steps, was a small cove. Not far from that was the ocean, deep grey clouds rolling over from its coasts. It was raining lightly, pine and oak trees hanging over the water. A dock led out a few hundred feet to the dark grey water.

Russia paused for a moment, before turning around, and tying ropes around thier waists. Large rocks were attached to them, tied securely, firmly.  
It seemed that there was no point in putting in an effort to do that, until once again, he glanced at the water once more.

Japan's eyes grew wide.

He knew what Russia's idea of 'fun' was now.


	12. Chapter 12

Italy was terrified.

The cold of the water hit him like an avalanche, swallowing him up and beginning to bite at his nose, ears, fingers and toes.  
For a moment that was all his mind could register, the freezing, bitter cold. He forced his eyes open, seeing Russia standing at the edge of the dock watching, his form broken and changing, like in a strange mirror. He could make out two other forms as the world began to dissapear, most likely England and America; from what grayish colors he could see.

He let out a muffled, absent scream, bubbles of precious air rising up from his throat and escaping into the murky grey and white above him. He stopped sinking, the rope pulling against his waist as his body pulled itself up.

He couldn't.  
He couldn't go up.

He pulled at the ropes holding his hands behind his back, trying to pull his wrists from his bonds, but Russia had done a good job tying them.

His lungs instinctively opened, and water rushed in. He began to choke, more bubbles rising up around him. He saw four figures now, one was lower down, almost sitting at the edge and peering down. His eyes stung and the salt began to penetrate his wounds, his head stinging like hell, his side burning with fire.

He saw another large splash above and saw another figure begin to sink down.

Japan.

He glanced over, trying to see clearly in the blurry, dark, murky depths of the cove. Japan was not moving, simply sitting, not struggling, floating in the cold water. He choked more, his vision redirecting itself up to the surface. He saw the rain beating down hard now, causing the water to ripple in strange, abstract ways. More bubbles, containing air he didn't know he had, rose to the surface.

They had to bring him up soon. He didn't care if he couldn't die, Russia had done this before to others, and it never lasted more than a few minutes.

He tried not panic. He was tired of panicking, being the weak one.  
He could feel tears rise up in his eyes, but he couldn't feel them fall down his face, as instead they floated off in the cove.

He stared, his eyes stinging more and his wounds burning continuously.

They had to let him up soon. They had to, and maybe Canada could fix him again, and he could see Germany, and they would go to Britain and get the Nordics to disagree with the Allies dark ways of punishment.

A sudden thought drifted through his head as water continued to rush into his lungs and weigh him down. He closed his eyes and let a single memory fill his head, almost drowning out the knowledge that he was drowning.

He was in a field with Holy Roman Empire, and everything was going to be okay.


	13. Chapter 13

Germany was alone.

He felt sick to his stomach with worry, it had been a few hours since that morning, when France had dragged not only Italy away, but Japan as well. He knew exactly what France's intent was, and he wanted to scream. He was sick of being so helpless, just watching everything unfold before his eyes while he could do nothing.

He was leaning against the wall of the cab, his head pressed against it, his teeth gritted. He'd been staring at it so long, he had probably memorized every small bump in the plastic-metal alloy. He lifted his head away and pressed it back with a thud.  
"...Vhy?..." He whispered to himself.

He became restless quickly, shifting to sit against the wall of the cab and stare at the back of the bed of the soldier wagon. He pressed his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. The cloth that served as the ceiling was thick, canvas like fabric. It was dyed a darker shade, since it was raining, parts of the fabric darker brown than he could have thought possible.  
The silence he was surrounded in was quickly interrupted as he heard frantic footsteps against the gravel.

The back of the truck was quickly opened, revealing Canada's panicked face. He was wet, and coatless -he had left Germany his coat- and shivering, but still working quickly.  
"Come on." Canada said quickly. "I need you to help me get them back here, now."  
Germany followed Canada, jumping easily -shakily, but easily, he hadn't eaten in a while- out of the back of the truck, and following him into the rain. He didn't mind it at all if it was raining, as long as he got to see Japan and Italy, to make sure that they were okay.

He followed Canada slowly, though it seemed as if there was no one there. The entire compound felt lifeless and empty, rain pattering down on the gravel and the dirt path he followed Canada to.  
The nation was running, going as fast as he could while still letting Germany catch up. While they were under the shelter of trees, Canada stopped for a moment, and cut his hands loose. But he continued quickly, racing to a dock. The end seemed to go almost a fourth of the way across the cove it was located at, low to the water. Small grey waves lapped against the planks. Under a cover halfway down the dock, he saw Japan and Italy sprawled on the wood.

"Russia brought 'em up a few minutes ago, but he left 'em half in the water, and Japan kept slipping when I tried to get him out... oh god..." Canada collapsed beside Italy. Japan was staring blankly, shivering under a blanket. "I can't wake him up... I can't... I don't know what to do..." Canada seemed to be on the verge of tears, and Germany bent down quickly.

He pressed his head against Italy's chest. He could hear a faint heartbeat, and it seemed like much too long between each shaky, weak breath. He was freezing cold, shaking under Germany's head even though he was unconsious.  
Germany felt instinct overcome him as he sat up and put one hand atop the other on Italy's chest. He pushed, hard, one, two, three. He then pinched Italy's nose closed and leaned forward, letting large breaths into Italy's mouth and down into his lungs.  
Germany set the pattern in his head, a determined scowl set on his face.  
Push, one, two, three, breathe, breathe. Push, one, two, three, breathe, breathe. Push, one, two, three, brea-

Italy choked, shuddering violently. He rolled onto his side, water erupting from his mouth. He hacked, letting out a strangled cry, his tied hands going to his throat as his eyes flew wide.  
" _Mien Gott!"_ Germany exclaimed. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Italy's chest, sqweezing hard.  
A small splat of mucus and blood fell to the deck, and Germany released Italy, where he sat on his knees. He seemed dazed, as if the world was lucid to him.

He looked around blankly for a moment, before his eyes landed on Germany.  
Italy began to cry, every attempt at speech broken by ragged, panicked gasps. "Nnh... gah! Ih-ih-ih-ih-it ha-ha-ha-hurts! Make tha-tha-tha-the-them stop pah-pah- _piacere!"_ He pressed his head into Germany chest, and Germany wrapped his arms around his cold and frail form. It was obvious he was beginning to hyperventilate, struggling to form each word without it being broken by ragged tears and sobs.  
Italy cried heavily, struggling to breathe properly without gasping quickly, staring out at the water as it heaved and swirled. His jaw was working as if he wanted to say something, but he was silent except for the small hiccuping sobs he let out. He sniffed heavily, shuddering as he gripped Germany's arm. The grip was so tight he was sure Italy had caused him to bleed, but he didn't move his hand away, or shift at all.

He simply sat, and let Italy cry.


	14. Chapter 14 (England's POV)

England stared out the window.

His jaw was set, and his gaze was blank; since he had long ago adjusted to the rainy enviornment that this part of France provided. He didn't move. He knew the man himself was passed out on the couch, in that ridiculously bright uniform. Bright blue, bright red, what was he thinking? He glanced down at his own uniform for a moment; which was a dark, off green color. He felt that it was much more practical.

He stared out the window again, staring out towards the small cove they had set camp in. They were in small beach houses, yet in a way they felt more like cabins. Small windows on two sides, a wooden door, wooden walls, wooden floor, wooden roof over their heads. Wooden stilts holding it five feet off of the ground even, but it wasn't like he cared much. It wasn't like he was coming back.  
France disgusted him.

He could hear America spinning a coin of some sort on the table, a quiet 'swish, swish, swish; _clink!_ ' over and over again. He could see his reflection in the window, his booted feet propped up on the table, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose, his dark, cotton lined leather coat in his lap.  
He gritted his teeth.

He felt strange. He wasn't sure if he was feeling satisfaction for upbringing justice, or guilt for how harsh he had been. It was justice, on one hand; yet on the other, he had never known the best time to stop. Italy had to have gone through enough at this point. The lake was absoloutely freezing after all, and salt filled; which would sting.  
He blinked, clearing his thoughts, staring at his reflection in the window.

The world outside became blurred as he focused on something else, melding into a collection of gray, blue, brown, and dull green.  
The man in the reflection seemed to look nothing like him. Tired green eyes, heavy set brows furrowed with concentration and possibly even slight confusion and annoyance. His short blonde hair was slightly spiky, unkempt, wild. His hands were crossed in front of his chest, his mouth a thin line, his uniform slightly rumpled, some sort of grey stain in the corner from war-time.  
He opened his mouth to speak, seeing his reflection do so as well.

That couldn't be him. That man -the man who was himself- looked like a disgruntled stranger staring at him from outside, partially clear, as if a ghost. He blinked, and turned slightly, putting his hands behind his back and pacing past America.

"When are we leaving?" He tried not to show his surprise. His voice sounded unused, crackly, but still thick with his Cockney accent.  
America replied smoothly. "I dunno, about an hour or two maybe."  
England whirled around, staring at the coin America was still fiddling with. "Will you cut that out?" He asked, annoyed.  
"What's your problem, Iggy?" America replied haughtily, slapping the coin back down on the table.

England sighed.  
"It's nothing."  
"Come on, man." America whined a bit. "We're bros, right? I can tell you're upset."  
England raised his brow, tilting his head up and away from America with a tint of concern and confusion splayed across his face. Yet his mouth remained a thin line.  
"I don't know... I guess I feel bad."  
"Bad about what? The Axis?"  
"Yes. The Axis."  
America paused for a moment, staring at the coin he was holding absentmindedly.  
"You said, and I qoute you directly; 'They started the war. This means they should pay for it. All justice requires punishment. Some sort of ruler to slap the hands of those who act out. Italy and Japan are the ruler, and Germany is the one being punished. In the process, it will punish all of them.'"  
"And if we each deliver our own punishment, they will understand what everyone had to go through." England stated. "I know what I said."  
America nodded. "You shouldn't feel apprehensive. If they hadn't started this war, I would not have lost soldiers. I would not have lost lives. You wouldn't have, France wouldn't have, China and Russia wouldn't have. It's simple, really."

England stared at the far wall, before looking over his shoulder slightly at were America sat.  
"But I feel as if my actions were fueled by anger."  
America let out a sigh. "Let it go, Iggy. Within the next few decades we'll have all pretty much forgotten about this."  
England realeased another sigh.  
"Alright then. I'll stand true to my word."  
And then he stared out the window again, almost missing the figure dissapearing in the corner of his vision.


	15. Chapter 15

Italy shivered in Germany's grip.  
They were back in the truck now. It was a few degrees warmer in here, and Germany was like a giant heater. Canada -the country was being really good about them not being caught and put in more trouble- had retied everyone's hands in front, so Germany was still able to hug him and keep him warm. He was grateful for that. Canada was sympathetic and kind. But still wise and clever. He knew he could trust him.  
A little while ago, Canada had gently removed the top of his uniform to reveal the clotting blood beneath. Canada had given Germany a rag to hold against it.

Italy remembered Germany holding him on that dock, letting him try to calm down as he spoke in ragged sobs and gasps. He was terrified and confused, and still was. He remembered staring at the alien shapes in the water, not wanting to be thrown back in, sitting in Germany's warm arms as Canada tried to get Japan to stand, gently.

Italy let out a sigh. Japan was leaning against Germany too, asleep. It was still raining outside. But it wasn't that cold, even without his shirt. It was like humid rain. Canada had left to go find more medical supplies. France had removed everything off of him when he was... he didn't even want to think about it, but everything included the bandages that had covered his waist and side, and forehead. His palms burnt from trying to fight away at the ropes underwater.

He shifted slightly, looking down at his palms. They were red and raw, but stiff. They still burnt from when he had tried to free himself down there. He let out a shaky sigh. He was crying earlier. Canada had left a bowl, since every once and a while he would cough up that stuff. Canada called it phlegm.  
He hated phlegm. It was red and slimy and gross, and he couldn't believe that it came out of him.  
Germany sighed too. They didn't say anything. It was just quiet. The two -three of them- simply sat there, slumbering fitfully or listening to the rain pattering in the puddles caught by the gravel outside on the ground.  
He blinked, trying to clear his head of what had happened mere hours earlier.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just listening to the rain and the two other's breathing. He let his breathing slow and even. They would be left alone. It was all done. It would be fine.

He closed his eyes, beginning to drift off to sleep.

Suddenly, the back of the truck was thrown open. Italy jumped, his eyes flying wide open. He craned his neck to see what was going on, feeling his heart rate rise. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw England and China climbing into the back of the truck. Germany moved, pulling Italy closer.  
"Leave zhem alone." Germany said through gritted teeth. "Zhey don't need to suffer anymore."

He heard England chuckle. It was sickening, slightly scary. "You think it's over?" His voice was mocking, thin and venomous. "I saw you. I saw you running to the docks. I don't know how you got out, but that, sir, was looking like an escape."  
"Zhen vhy did I come back!?" Germany exclaimed. "Vhy vould I come back to zhis place, unless it is zhe only shelter zhat vould even 'help' us, for miles all around!?"  
There was a long pause. He heard a set of boots clacking against the tin floor. He heard England's voice, rotating slowly around them. "You ran. You got out."  
"Do you not know vhat has happened to zhese two!?" Germany sounded very angry now. He could hear Japan breathing heavily as well, seemingly awake.  
England's voice broke out like a bullet from the barrel. "Don't talk back to me!" There was a loud cracking sound, and Germany let out a hiss of pain. Italy peered up to spot Germany staring at the ground not too far away. There was a red mark on the left side of his face, and more short strands of hair had fallen into his face.

Germany was gritting his teeth angrily.  
"Oh wait." England said, pacing slowly around them again. "I did that wrong. I shouldn't have hit _you._ " Italy braced himself, but he heard the sound again, and it was Japan who choked back a yelp.  
Italy began to cry quietly. He was terrified. He didn't know what would happen if both England _and_ China were there.  
There was another long pause. England laughed slightly.  
"China, please 'hoist 'em up' as they say on the ships."  
Italy didn't know what that meant. He had a feeling he would soon find out. He heard Japan let out a groan, and then a yelp. He peered up to see he was hanging from the straits in the ceiling by his wrists, a narrow rope holding him there. He was swaying, and his eyes were screwed shut as he bit his lip. He looked like a piece of meat hanging in one of those big, industrial freezers.

He felt someone grab his hair. He let out a wail as he was lifted to his feet and pulled away from Germany. He felt sick. He was terrified and exhausted. The only images he had in his head were drowning in the cove and watching as France did what he wanted with Japan, as Japan screamed ' _Gomenesi! Gomenesi_! Prease stop!' after France had thrown Italy in the corner. He just sat and looked away, silent tears falling down his face; since he knew he was next. It felt like that. Just terror, horror, shock, disbelief and sickness all swirling around in his gut, burning his throat and lungs.

England threw him aside, and he hit the floor hard. His head spun as he let out a wail, tears streaming down his face. He shuddered, letting out a yelp as he was lifted by his wrists. They burnt and stung, and his arms felt like they were going to pull out of their sockets. He let his chin fall to his chest, his eyes drooping. His feet could hardly touch the floor. He was on his toes, balancing feebly. He let himself cry, taking in large and shaky breaths; his chest heaving as he tried to maintain control again. He quieted himself as he heard Germany being lifted up too, between him and Japan; who was still grunting at the pain. Japan was the shortest of the three of them.

Germany hissed between his teeth.  
"Vhat are you going to do to zhem?" His voice was low and dangerous.  
"Silence." England hissed. China was tying the rope that held Germany to the inside of the soldier wagon.

He glanced around quickly, spotting Japan struggling to hold himself up, and Germany staring at the floor in shame. He let his chin fall to his chest.  
"Good." England stated. He was pacing around them again. He began to feel fear climbing up in his gut. He didn't know what he was going to do.

Suddenly, he felt pain like fire pierce his back inbetween his shoulder blades.  
Tears ran down his face, and he was choking on them. He felt something cold and metalic dig under his skin in his back and tear away at his flesh.  
He screamed.  
"GNA _AAHHH_!"  
His throat burned as he writhed on his toes, trying to pull away.  
" _GAHH!"_  
He tried not to scream. He truly did. He bit his chapt lips and dry tongue. He dug his nails into his hands; but he still screamed.  
" _STOP IT! STOP!"_  
He could hear Germany shouting with as much power as he could, barely making it over his screams of fear and indefinate pain.  
" _Bitte! Stop, he can't take any more of this! STOP!"_

Through the blurry vision of his tears, he could see England sitting, staring; fiddling with he horsewhip in his hands. That had to mean China was doing it. Once more the blade peirced his skin, and he screamed.  
"NHAAA!"  
His throat really did burn. He could feel the phlegm rising up in his throat. He began to hack between screams, blood pooling at the corners of his mouth. The tears stung. His stomach hurt. His back was burning with pain.

China stopped, leaving him to sob. He could feel the blood oozing down his back, hot and slow, like molassas. He was blinking back tears, breathing heavily. He was still whimpering in pain as China moved on. He suddenly heard Japan scream. It was a full on, pain filled scream. He tilted his head to watch, trying to see what was happening. He could hardly see China standing behind Japan, digging a knife into the pale skin of his back. Blood ran down his back and sides, and he screamed loudly. Japan was crying, trying to apologise through hiccups and screams; but China did not stop until the figure was finished.

He did not know what it meant, but either way, it still looked painful. The flesh was frayed and red around the foreign word.  
China quickly moved to stand behind Germany. She carved the same thing into his back, and he shouted and screamed as well, fighting to get away. When it was done, he balanced on his toes weakly, and he stared at what served as the far wall.

After that, China and England climbed out of the back of the truck. They shut it behind them, leaving them there, and then the car began to move a few minutes later. They swayed in the back of the truck, and Italy felt his wrists burn as he swayed when the car pulled forward and went over bumps.  
A few minutes later, Germany began to cry. It was quiet, and he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes to prevent himself from doing so. As if he wanted to hide it.  
But still he cried.  
"Ja-Germany...?" Italy asked weakly. "Why are-a you... crying?.."  
"I'm a failure." Germany stated simply. "I've failed you both by letting you get hurt. I'm a vorthless peice of _sheissen._ "

"No." Japan stated. "It's arr of our mistakes."  
" _Si_." Italy stated.

Germany smiled slightly, staring at the ground. "I don't deserve friends like you, _ja_?"  
"Everyone-a does." Italy said quietly. "No matter what they've-a done."

 **oOoOo**

The road seemed long. For hours, they hung there, swinging with the truck.

Germany felt ashamed. He had cried earlier. He hadn't cried in a long time. He used to cry a lot when he was younger, when his older brother Prussia would come home with new battlescars. But this time it was different. It wasn't of fear -even though it was that, a little bit- or even pain that much -okay, he had to admit to himself that it was about fifty percent pain- but it felt mostly of shame. He was ashamed.  
He was ashamed that he couldn't stop his friends from being tortured, because it tortured him too to watch them be in so much pain.  
He was ashamed that he couldn't be brave enough to run. To maybe even save them, if he could think of a good plan.  
He felt ashamed that he was so useless. He could hardly help when Canada had arrived to bandage Italy.

He could feel his wrists burning. They were sore and probably raw now, from hanging there so long. He also felt as if his arms were going to be pulled from their sockets. His chest burned, and a few hours earlier he'd seen the wound there grow slightly redder. He could smell the metalic scent of blood filling the back of the cab, causing his head to ache at the reek of it.

Japan kept fighting to stay on his toes, his short posture causing him to swing easily. China had lifted him about an inch too high, and standing on his toes was the only thing he could do to support his wrists. Germany had been lifted pretty high as well. He could stand on his toes quite easily, and he spent most of his time staring down at them, his boots bent oddly. He noticed that one of the laces had come out. It was waving slightly, like he was. Whenever the truck went over a bump, or rounded a corner, they would all be sent leaning violently against their restraints.

Italy's head hung by his chest. His reddish-auburn hair was dyed dark red near his neck, from where China had carved the symbol into his back with the knife. From what he could assume, they all had the same symbol carved into their backs. Japan had said a while earlier that they were Chinese for 'defeated'. He felt ashamed by that too. There would be a scar from it. He knew.  
As he glanced at the Italy, he saw the symbol clearly.

 _ **败**_ __ __ __ _ **Bai (Bey-ah) = Defeated = Failure = Shame**_

 _ **search?newwindow=1 &q=how+to+say+defeated+in+chinese&oq=how+to+say+defeated+in+chinese&gs_l=serp.3...2953.4719.0.4..0..0.0...0...1c.1. ..vCQPLj1-ro**_

He watched as Italy's head lolled from side to side with the truck. The nation was weakly breathing. There was a small puddle of phlegm on the floor by his feet. It was red and yellow and pale, and every once and a while he could hear Italy begin to hack again. When the time occured, he would try to comfort Italy, telling him to just let it come out. He would whimper and hack quietly, but soon enough it landed on the floor with a sickening 'splat' and he would be okay for the next half an hour or so.

After a while, he would try to glance out the top of the truck back. He couldn't see much. Just a few trees passing by. The sky outside was grey, and he had a feeling that it was going to be cloudy in England. Maybe not rainy, but cloudy and dreary.

Italy let out a sigh. He seemed very weak. His breathing was ragged and shaky, and his chest was heaving. He could tell he was tired. Every once and a while his head would snap up and his breathing would cut short, but only for a momment.

"Italia?" He said after a moment.  
"Hmm?" The other nation seemed weak. He looked weak too. His arms were trembling where they were being held above his head, and he could see his ribs. He didn't look like a skeleton, there was still a noteable layer of flesh over his bones, but he was still thin. The one bone Canada had put back in place was slightly crooked again. After what France had done, it would be no wonder.  
"Try to sleep, _ja_?" He said softly, feeling his brow turn up.

"I've-a been trying." Italy answered shakily and simply. He moved his head slowly to look up at Germany. He could see that he had tear tracks on his face, and the wound on his forhead wasn't getting any better. In fact, it seemed worse. A small section of it had reopened and the blood was running down the side of his face. His amber eyes looked wet, and the short, reddish-auburn mane on his head was messy and unkempt, for him at least.  
"It's-a just that-a my back hurts, _no_?" He winced as he said this, but it looked like he was trying to hide it. "And that-a phlegm stuff keeps... cah-coming up." He chuckled to himself softly. " _Ve~..._ just-a my luck, huh?"  
Germany gritted his teeth, looking away. It wasn't Italy's luck. Hell, it wasn't even his fault. He'd been thrown into the mess just like everyone else. Except for Germany himself. He could take the blame for it. He felt slightly relieved though. He hadn't heard Italy stutter a single 'Ve' in what felt like forever.

"Je-Germany?..." Italy asked weakly. He glanced over at his friend. "It's-a gonna be okay."  
"Don't..." Germany said quietly. "Stop saying zhat it vill be okay. It von't!" He heard his voice raise angrily. He shut his mouth quickly, feeling even more ashamed.  
He paused for a moment, watching as Italy tried to flinch away. But he couldn't with his hands tied above his head, so he resorted to leaning away from the bigger nation.  
Italy let out a weak, near inaudible whimper. Germany leaned down slightly to see that Italy was crying.  
"I'm sorry, Italia!" Germany exclaimed quietly.  
Italy simply nodded, but didn't say anything else. Suddenly the car came to adrupt stop. Everyone let out their own sounds of surprise, Japan being the first as his hip collided with the wall to the cab.  
"Ugh!"  
" _Gott!"_  
"Gah-ah!"

They all barely managed to stay on their toes, Japan struggling the most, as the car surged back again.  
"Alright!" The back of the truck was thrown open, revealing England, who climbed in quickly. "You bloody idiots just need to stay quiet! No one needs your stupid little conversations!"  
" _Nien."_ Germany replied quietly, glaring at England dangerously.  
"What did you just say to me?" England's voice was low too.  
" _Nien_." Germany repeated quickly.

Within moments England was brandishing his horse whip. How the man kept it concealed, he had't the slightest clue. Germany watched with wide eyes as England quickly sent the leather end racing across Italy's face. The nation let out a yelp, trying to cower from England as it hit his face with a loud 'slap!'.  
England retracted the horse whip slowly, letting his arm fall to his side.  
"You know what? I'm just not going to deal with it." England said with a sigh. He dissapeared from the back for a moment, and Germany let his eyes land on the scene outside. They were on some sort of ferri, and the grey waters between England and France spread between each of the countries. He could see the shore of England not too far away.

Momments later, England reappeared with a handfull of rags tight in his grip. He stalked over to Japan, who recoiled, before stepping behind him, selecting a longer rag and throwing it around his face. He pulled it tight, twisting it into a single, long and thick strip. He pulled back hard, and Japan's eyes flew wide as he made a weak gargling sound. Germany watched as England tied it tight behind his head. He could see that the dirty cloth was already rubbing his skin raw, digging into Japan's cheeks and effectively refraining him from speaking.  
England finished quickly, stepping behind Germany and preforming the same ritual. As soon as England pulled back, he could taste motor oil on the cloth. He gagged reflectively, but England tied the knot tight, silencing him. It bit and rubbed at the corners of his mouth, pressing into his mouth, and he couldn't push it out or away.  
He glanced at Japan, who was now staring at the floor, and then back at Italy. Germany watched as England repeated the action for a third time. Italy whimpered, blinking wildly as he tried to clear the tears from England hitting him earlier. He gagged, and the gag turned red slightly, the phlegm dripping down his chin. Germany narrowed his eyes, biting into his gag in an attempt to not shout at the nation, who was now sitting on the bench just in front of Italy.

He stared at them all a moment, before bringing out the horsewhip again and sending it flying into Italy's leg. The nation let out a muffled yelp, his knee buckling as it hit his knee cap.

England scoffed. "That wanker was right. You _do_ make funny noises." He hit the other leg, causing Italy to let out a muffled cry, tears forming in his eyes.

A few momments later, the boat started moving, and England stood, shutting the truck door behind him as he leapt out.

And then, they were left, hanging there and swaying with the waters.


	16. Chapter 16

It was halfway across the crossing when France arrived.

At this point Germany was beginning to fall asleep slightly, his eyelids growing heavy as the sky had begun to darken slightly. It had been about forty-five minutes since the ferri had left the docks. The deep waters were rocking the ferri somewhat roughly, and it was beginning to get chilly.

The back of their prison opened slowly, and a gush of cold air was let in. Germany cracked his eyes open, not moving his head as he looked to see France creeping in. Italy seemed to have escaped unconsiousness once again, and was aware of France's presence. Japan seemed to be asleep.

His eyes went back to France, who was pacing around Italy slowly. He perked his ears to try and hear.  
"Ja-Germany!" Italy was seemingly whispering, panic and fear lacing his voice. "Germany... ha-help me-a!..." At least, that's what it seemed like. It sounded muffled from behind the gag.  
"Oh, shut up." France stated, grabbing Italy's face. Italy let out a whimper, trying to pull away. France chuckled, letting Italy's face go; almost pushing it away. The other nation watched warily as his older counterpart paced around him. Germany bit into the gag, refraining from making noise. If it got to a certain point, then he would start kicking.

France paced around the other nation slowly, running his finger across his back, shoulders and upper chest carelessly, glancing at the symbol every once and a while.  
"Hmph." France scoffed, staring at the bloody gash. He put his hands over it, pulling the skin apart slightly to see the symbol easier. Italy choked a muffled sob, tears sliding down his face as the scabs broke. He swung his head from side to side, picking up his foot to try and stay quiet, sqweezing his eyes shut. France stepped back in disgust as Italy's back started to bleed again.

At this point, Germany felt like he'd already bitten through the gag. He was biting down hard enough to snap a branch off of a tree, it felt like.  
"You know, I really _do_ enjoy your funny noises, _mi amore._ " France had a smirk on his face as he said this. Italy was breathing quickly, blinking away tears. He would whimper and looked away every time France came close to him. The Frenchman reached up and pulled the wild curl on the left side of Italy's head.  
Italy pulled back at the sudden movement, pulling his head to the right as he whimpered again.  
"Mnmmph!" He tried to speak, but it came out muffled and croaky, even a bit shaky.  
France laughed, running his finger down the Italian's face. He jerked his head away, shivering as France ran it down to his hip. He let out another whimper, but this one was extremely quiet, almost nonexistant. He was crying, letting out other small and shaky whimpers, trying to dance away from France on his toes. He kept pulling at his wrists, frantic to get out, but in the position they were in he seemed stuck.  
France then ran his finger from Italy's hip, up his chest and under his chin. He pushed Italy's chin up, forcing him to face the ceiling; but his amber eyes still stared down at France. Germany could see he was shaking, letting silent tears of fear slide down his face as he glanced rapidly back and forth between himself and France, who was still taking slow, meandering paces.

Italy was obviously terrified out of his wits.

France clicked his tongue, and Italy flinched visably. France licked his lips greedily, staring at the weak, trembling nation standing exposed and vulnerable before him.  
"What should we do today, _amore?_ " France asked, putting empthasis in the word 'amore', his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
"Mmmchmm..."  
"I could mark you up like China has. Maybe a little message to anyone else who might to _take_ you from me..." France smirked as Italy's amber eyes went wide, tears streaming down his face. France poked the Chinese character on the Italian's back with some force, causing him to shudder and let out a muffled cry.  
"Mmmph!"  
"Or we could _play_ again." France stood behind Italy still, running his hands from Italy's wrists and down to his hips. He was trembling as France felt his upper half, hardly able to hold himself up on his toes. He shook his head rapidly, writhing and fighting the ropes above his head to try and get out. "You have such a beautiful body. Namely your face." France stated, grabbing Italy's chin. He ran his thumb across the mark England had left with the horsewhip. "Such a shame England had to _ruin it_ , like everything else." France chuckled to himself. "But you're so easy. Fun, I'd have to say." France had that dark, sly grin on. "Should we use that fun? It's been a while since we've had fun..."  
"Mm-mmph!"  
Italy's weak attempt to speak was silenced as France put a finger over his lips, tracing them. Italy tried to jerk away, only to have France grab his hair with the other hand.

"Mmm! Mmphm-mmm!"  
Italy was looking around for help or some form of escape franticly. France laughed as he did this, continuing to trace the fine, even feminine features on Italy's round face. The Italian kept trying to pull away, but France would grab the hair on the back of his neck and jerk his head back into place, causing him to whimper through the gag.  
"Mnmmm..."

Germany could feel himself fuming. It'd hardly been long enough! In fact, there shouldn't even be a long enough! It was almost twenty-four hours ago France had 'played' with not only Italy, but Japan as well! His head was racing, trying to figure out what to do. His attention was redirected to France as Italy let out another muffled whimper. France finished pacing for a while and stood behind Italy, repeating the movement of grabbing Italy's wrists. Italy was sobbing now, letting out shaky breaths as tears ran down his face at enough rate to fill up a river.

France stopped at his elbows, not reaching up as much, since he was almost a foot taller than Italy. He pulled his arms apart, causing Italy to let out another muffled yelp. As they had once been pressed against his head, they were now in more of a diamond shape.  
"After China marked you up, you might make some very funny noises." France muttered in Italy's ear. The nation was struggling to stay on his toes with the rocking of the boat. "And your shirt is already gone."  
"Mmm-mmm...!"  
Italy was shaking his head quickly, letting small shaky breaths in and out rapidly. He was trying to speak, something that remotely sounded like 'Piacere. Piacere, stop. I don't want this. Piacere, stop. Per favore, fratello per favore, per favore!'  
France slowly ran his hands down Italy's arms, leaving his limbs in the crooked position. He then ran them down his sides, causing the nation to shudder violently. Finally, he stopped, his hands resting on his hips. Slowly, as Italy stared down with wide eyes, they went to the belt buckle holding his pants up.  
"Mmph! _Mmph_! Nnmph!"  
Italy let out a muffled cry of shock, beginning to writhe wildly. He was desprate. He was insanely desprate.

The instant France continued on, Germany let his head snap up. He didn't know why he hadn't done so earlier, but he glowered, towering over France by a few inches, glaring daggers into the nation. France stopped, stepping away from the smaller nation.  
Italy let out a sigh of relief, letting his arms pull tight and his knees bend. He was crying still, but not as much as before, craning his neck to see France stalk away towards Germany.  
Germany stared at the nation as he began to stalk slowly around him, whipping his head around as much as he could to keep an eye on him the whole time.

France chuckled.  
"You think you're so big and tough, no?" France laughed, patting his cheek with the back of his hand. Germany grunted in annoyance, pulling his head away. He let his facial expression harden. He had to show the man he wasn't afraid. And he wasn't. France was simply a pervert with too much time on his hands.  
France glowered. "You think you've got it all. You think you're so brave!" Germany could hear the sarcasm dripping like venom from France's voice.  
Germany ignored him, biting into the gag as hard he could to prevent from simply kicking the other nation then and there, but that would only give him a better excuse to proceed onto Italy.

"Mmm!?" Italy tried to speak once more as France continued to pace around Germany. His eyes were filled with surprise, and fear for him; but there was something else he couldn't place there.  
It seemed like some sort of mixture between wisdom and mutual respect as he watched Germany be paced around. Their eyes only met for a momment, and it seemed that by now, Japan had awoken. The other nation was breathing lightly and raggedly, wide brown eyes staring at France warily, ready to lash out if need be.  
France dissapeared behind Germany, and he couldn't see past his arms to keep an eye on the nation. Suddenly, he felt pain race though his spine as his nerves frayed. France balled his fist and pounded on the Chinese character carved into his back again, and again, and again, repeatedly, in the same spot. He let out a muffled shout through the gag, choking on the horrible taste.

"Mmph!" Italy exclaimed from behind the gag, his eyes going wide.  
Japan let out a muffled cry as well, his eyes going wide in surprise. "Mnnph!"  
The two continued to let out muffled cries and screams like that, as if screaming for help, pulling on the ropes that held their wrists high above their heads, rocking on their toes helplessly. After what felt like ages, France finally stopped, striding from the truck back and slamming it shut behind him.

Germany glanced up to spot the nearing English coast nearing. It was quickly obscured, however. They were soon left in a grey darkness, hanging there once more, swinging from the straits of the ceiling of the back of the soldier wagon. Italy was still crying, staring at the door as if willing it to either open and let them free, or stay closed and keep them safe.  
It would be about another fifteen minutes until they arrived, Germany estimated. He hoped that the other nations would be more forgiving. He hoped that the other nations would see their state and be at least a bit merciful.

It was all he could ask for now.


	17. Chapter 17 (Canada's POV)

I haven't been able to see them. England's been having me rush around and do things, run arrands and such. I can't help but feel annoyed by this. I know they need help. From what I can assume, England and China have payed them a 'visit'. I could hear screaming earlier. I feel sick about it all.

I walk towards the other side of the ferri with a few papers Russia asked me to fetch. I'll do as commanded. I can't let them suspect anything. Then again, I can't act too casual either. America knows how I feel about this all.

I pass the trailer, and glance inside. They don't seem to notice me. It's almost wide open, and they don't seem to notice me. If they did, France would too, and I would be absoloutely screwed.  
But I can see what their condition is.  
Japan is half asleep, trying to stand on his toes. His head is lolling to his chest, and his arms are pulled above his head, his wrists tied to the straights of the soldier wagon. He has this huge Chinese mark carved inbetween his shoulder blades. It looks like it hurts, and almost looks infected. It's puffy and red on the outside, and the blood hasn't been clotting very well, from what I can tell. There's a red, slightly bloody, and bruising mark on his cheek. He also has a gag shoved in his mouth, tied behind his head with some sort of oily fabric. It's biting into his cheeks, and seems painfull as well.  
Germany is in the same position, his wrists tied above his head as he struggles to balance on his toes. He has the same thing carved into his back, but it doesn't look as bad. He is also gagged in a similar fashion, and has two of those marks on his face, on the other cheek. The bandage on his chest is dirtier than before, and looks almost as if it's going to come loose and fall off soon. He looks angry, he's gritting his teeth and biting the gag very hard, almost as if he's trying not to speak.  
And then there's Italy. He's shaking, tear tracks on his face. His amber eyes are unusually wide, and the bruises on his arms seem to have darkened several shades. He too is gagged and hanging by his wrists, balancing on his toes. He also has the same mark carved into his back, but not only that, France is hovering around him. I can see he looks uncomfortable, borderline terrified of the man, mumbling inaudible words from behind the gag, whimpering and crying. Every once and a while France will touch him, dragging his finger across his chest or running his hands down his arms. With each of those actions, he'll make amore strangled noise, writhing in his bonds to get away.

They look like cows in a meat locker. It looks horrible.

I hear Russia call for me. I glance back for just a momment. They still don't notice me. Russia calls again. I had better go before he gets angry. If I can, I'll try to slip in before we land. I need to at least let them know I'm still on their side, and try to treat Italy's side wound. It looks worse too. Puffy and red and bruising around the edges.

I start heading back towards the passanger's cabin and hand Russia his papers before getting sent off on another arrand.

I can try.

I can always try.

 **oOoOo**

His skin was still tingling from where France touched him.  
Italy's breathing was still erratic and wild, his eyes were still wide, a small amount of adreneline still pushing through his veins and telling him to keep fighting. But he couldn't. Fatigue and exhaustion hit him like a wave. He could feel his knees wobbling as the truck pulled onto land, and the meager balance on his toes kept failing him, causing his knees to buckle. He would always push on his toes again as the rope bit into his wrists further.

He would push up slightly higher on his toes to try and see how close they were getting to London. Every once a while he could spot an old castle, but he could not see London. Japan and Germany didn't say much -well, they couldn't, England had tied the gags very well- but every once and a while he could feel their eyes on his back, as if reassuring he was still there. He could understand that. But it wasn't as if France could come to snatch him up without being noticed by them.

After a while, he simply let himself hang, standing on his toes and barely standing up straight. Whenever the trailer rocked when they went over a large bump, or quickly rounded a corner, all three of them would lean against their bonds uncontrollably. Italy usually tried to push back and keep standing straight, because it hurt to lean, but it also hurt to push back.

He didn't know why England thought it was such as good idea to gag them. With what France had done, they absoloutely needed to speak to each other. He could still feel throbbing where France had snatched at the hair on the back of his neck, prying his head back in place so he could continue to trace his lips, his nose, his cheeks, and he hated it.  
He hated the look on the man's face -someone he would've gone to help for- as he did so. He didn't understand France's intent. France was his damn brother! Older brother by a few hundred years, maybe, but still. France should have it straight in his head that he couldn't do that to 'family'.  
Or anyone at all.

Italy's thoughts were shattered as the door swung open. China and America climbed in. He flinched away, staring at the ground at his feet -which held a small puddle of phlegm and blood- to not look at them. He could see a rag in China's hand. He watched as one of her dainty hands found their way under his chin.  
She pushed his head up -gently, much to his surprise- and stared at him for a momment. He stared back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot America blindfolding Japan, who seemed ashamed by this. Germany was just staring at the floor.  
His attention went back to China, and they made eye contact.

Her hand under his chin didn't seem as creepy. In fact, it felt almost comforting, with the pained and slightly confused look on her face.  
" _Aru_." She said softly. "I don't know what to say. I don't know what I could've changed. I think that England is being influental. I can't tell anyone this, but I'm on your side. I've taken actions I shouldn't have, and I could've punished you three in a different way." She looked at the ground, her kamino sleeve drooping to her side. "I guess what I'm saying, _Aru_ , is... well, _Bàoqiàn_."  
She said nothing more, raising the strip of cloth up to his eyes and tying it firmly behind his head.  
"Mm..." He responded quietly, nodding. Okay. If Canada and China were on their side, and there was no doubt Romano would be infuriated by this, they might actually have a chance. He blinked behind the blindfold, trying to let his eyes adjust to the fumes trapped in it. Motor oil. It stung his eyes, but he could adjust to it. He needed to keep his eyes open for shapes of incoming threats. At least, as well as he could in the light they had.

The door was shut, and they drove forward. Italy could actually feel the road under the wheels. He didn't know who was in the front seat -though it was most likely China at the wheel and America ranting away in the passanger's seat. He could actually hear the modern nation's voice rambling on about things he didn't care about.  
He needed to know if America had done anything to the other two.  
"Mmkaay?" He tried to say through the gag. It wasn't hard to utter a single word, but an entire sentance was out of the question.  
"Mm." He heard Germany answer simply.  
"Mm-hmm." Japan replied.

He let out a muffled sigh. "Mmmnph." He hated this gag! He couldn't talk, he couldn't communicate at all! Germany and Japan couldn't either, and he felt stuck. Blindfolded, gagged, tied up by his wrists and hanging uselessly.

For what felt like hours he simply hung there, swaying with the movement of the truck, trying to balance on his toes. His wrists keep hurting worse and worse, and his arms are sore from pulling. They still feel as if they're going to be pulled out of their sockets.

It began to get dark, and he let his eyes slide closed. For the rest of the ride, he drifted in and out of sleep, his head drooping against his chest, the swaying of the car dulling his senses as his world became a stuffy warm black.


	18. Chapter 18

"Up an' at 'em!"  
America's voice startled him awake, and he felt a hand patting his head roughly.

Italy stirred, groaning and shifting his head.  
"Mmmph..." He moaned, opening his eyes. He realized the blindfold was still there, blocking his vision, but he could make out the muffled image of someone in front of him, speaking, framed by a grey-white light.  
"It's mornin' time all of ya! We gotta get up to the meeting room!"  
"And how are vee supposed to do zhat?" Germany answered croakily.  
Italy cocked his head in confusion. Germany was talking?  
"Haha..." America said. "You're a bitch. I shouldn't taken off that damn gag." He said this all in the same tone, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Ya know what? Here. You can have it back."  
He heard Germany start to say something, but it was muffled quickly.  
"Alright then, I guess I'll grab Japan. You guys take your pick."  
He heard some scuffling, and America dissapeared from his black and white, blurry vision, before the figure reappeared.  
"Ohohoh..." Italy felt himself freeze up. He knew that laugh. He knew that laugh too damn well.  
"Chmmney?..." He tried to call out to Germany, but he could already see who he assumed was Russia leading him away.

He heard what he assumed was a knife being removed from the scabbard, and within a few minutes he had collapsed on the tin-plastic floor. He began to roll over onto his stomach weakly, feeling more phlegm rise up in his throat. It hurt. It hurt a lot. He let out a muffled cry. The floor was cold, and hurt the scabs on his back a lot. The bruises on his arms were throbbing.  
"Mmph!" Suddenly he felt someone shifting him onto his back. He began to panic and thrash out, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. His heart was beating fast. Incredably fast. Someone was straddling his hips, pinning him down.  
He heard a chuckle, and he could feel something cold against his cheek. The knife. He froze up, letting himself cry. He could feel fingers lightly tracing his lips, running down the bridge of his nose.  
Suddenly, he felt someone grab his wrists. He pulled, hard, but the blade was pressed against his face slightly harder.  
"Now, now." A voice said. "Let's not ruin that pretty face." He quickly froze again. The person moved his wrists above his head, holding them there.  
The knife was cast away as the other hand began to run down his neck, down his chest, across his stomach and abdomen, to his hips. He cried harder, fighting, trying to pull his hands away, kicking. He could feel his stomach sink.  
"MMMmm!"  
"Hurry up!" He heard America call, and whatever movement had been about to take place ceased. He heard a sigh of dissapiontment.  
"I'm coming, _mi amore._ " France replied, and he was lifted by his hair.

He let out another cry, an empty wail of pain as he was dragged to his feet. France's hands wrapped around his wrists and pulled him along, down some sort of ramp. He was pulled along, and the cold, misty air felt strange against his skin. The aphsalt beneath his boots felt awkward, and his knees buckled slightly as he was dragged forward.  
"Use your feet, idiot." France hissed pulling him. He followed obediently, and then was led inside some sort of building. He could hear the tile clacking beneath his feet.  
"Stairs or elevator?" He heard Russia ask.  
"Meh." America said. "Stairs. Who cares anymore, right?"

He could hear their voices echoing, telling him that it was a very big room. As he kept shambling on, his toes collided with something hard.  
"Stairs." France said in annoyance, lifting him up. He obliged quickly, walking up the steps. His legs hurt a lot by the time they got to the top. His energy was low. His bloodsugar felt even lower. He was shaking, taking deep shaky breaths, his legs trembling from the strain of climbing the stairs. He could hardly walk as France dragged him around a corner and up another small flight of stairs. Then he was walked down a long hallway.

It felt like ages as he took step after step, struggling to stand up straight and shamble along at France's quick pace. He heard a door be thrown open, and they entered another large room. France pushed him along, until he was twisted around. He obeyed weakly, his hands shaking violently as France grabbed them, and tied another long rope to his tied wrists. At least, it felt long.

Suddenly, his arms were pulled straight up over his head again, and he found himself hardly balancing on his toes. He let out a whimper, beginning to cry. He didn't know what was really happening at all. He could feel two other presences on each side of him, and hear shaky breathing. Suddenly, his blindfold was removed, and he saw America staring at him. He had a sly grin on his face, and he roughly patted Italy's head before walking away to sit in a chair.

There was a large table on one side of the room, with enough chairs for wach nation. The allies were already sitting comfortably, speaking quietly. He could see Canada and China sitting near each other, staring at the table, talking to each other quietly. Every few momments, Canada would glance up with a sympathetic expression on his face. He glanced up, seeing that they were hanging from a set of rafters in the big room. He looked to each side. Japan was pulling against his restraints, looking about wildly to try and find some way of escape. On his left side was Germany, who was simply hanging there, staring at the floor. He had a few strands of hair in his face, and he was quiet. They were all still gagged as well, and by now he was sure the sides of his mouth would scab over and be sore.

He pulled on the ropes holding his wrists above his head, glancing up and blinking wildly. He pulled again, but nothing happened. He pulled once more. That wasn't a good idea. His knees buckled and he found himself truly hanging by just his wrists. He let out a muffled whimper as pain raced through his spine.  
He could feel tears falling down his face. He was just done. Italy was sick of it. He wanted it all to be over.

He hung there for a few minutes, before the door opened. Belarus and the Netherlands strode in. Netherlands stopped a momment, staring at the three as they hung there, before Belarus ushered him to sit down. Belarus seemed indifferent, greeting her brother quietly before taking a seat next to them.

About five more minutes passed and Bulgaria entered the room. He glanced up for a momment before averting his gaze and seating himself. He was closely followed by Austria and Hungary. Italy pulled against the ropes as they both looked over at them. Austria's jaw fell open like a door in the wind, and he had to put his hand on Hungary's shoulder to keep her from rushing forward. Hungary looked as if she was on the verge of tears.  
"Oh, Italia..." She breathed, before she turned to the allies. Anger indented her features, and her eyes were ablaze. Both Canada and China looked away.  
"I have raised that child almost from birth!" She screeched. "Half of you have known them all since before then! How could you do this!?" She was screaming at them at the top of her lungs, looking as if she was going to pry her hair out.  
"Hungary." Austria said quietly. "We'll try to get them out of this, just sit down." He glanced up at Italy, nodding briskly. Italy let his head fall as Hungary sat stiffly in the chair, glaring daggers into the Allies.

Poland followed, with Switzerland and Leichtenstien in tow. Poland said nothing, seating himself at the table, but it was clear he was slightly. Switzerland was quite clearly furious. Leichtenstien said something to him quietly, pulling on his arm gently and getting him to sit down near Hungary and Austria. She sat on his other side, a hand on his arm as his face grew dark.

Romania entered, seating himself next to Netherlands. They didn't say much to each other, but both looked concerned. And finally, Prussia entered.  
At first he entered the room loudly, about to speak, looking full of himself; but then he glanced over at the three. If the albino's eyes weren't wide enough, when they landed on Germany's tired form; they got even bigger. For a momment he looked back and forth, but then gritted his teeth and sat down near Austria.

After a while the Soviet Union walked in, they all sat near Russia, looking nervously at the three as they hung by their wrists. Ukraine looked most worried, glancing at them with concern. The rest of the Nordics showed up as well, but didn't seem too effected, glancing at each other with solemn expressions. If anything, tiny Sealand following them was shocked, almost terrified. He wedged himself inbetween the Nordics, as if wary of the Allies.

Spain and Greece entered, followed by a few other countries. The two glanced at each other with concern. Romano burst in behind them, but he froze just inside the door. He stared, eyes wide, mouth agape.  
"Fratello?..." He asked softly.  
Italy lifted his head weakly, trying to answer.  
"MMmmm?" He answered, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes.  
"Romano, sit down." Spain said softly. Romano obliged, still staring in shock.

"Now, let's begin." England stated, standing up at the head of the table. The other allies sat near him, France, Russia and America on his left, China and Canada on his right. "We all know that the purpose of this meeting is decide what to do with the criminals."

Italy flinched as Switzerland stood up, banging his fist on the table. "You think they're the criminals!? Who, in their right mind, would think that they are criminals!?" Switzerland's shout made Italy's ears ache.  
"Brother, please calm down." Leichtenstien stated quietly. "That's no way to go about stating your point."  
Switzerland sighed, sitting down stiffly.

"As I was saying, punishment could vary to disintegration. We all know this."  
"I believe they've been punished enough." Sweden stated briskly. He was gritting his teeth, looking as if he was trying not to shout as Switzerland had a few momments before.  
"You don't forget what they -mainly he- did to the Jews? Other people?" France stated.  
Germany's head snapped up, and he pulled, trying to speak through the gag.  
"Shut up!" England exclaimed.

Germany simply glared, before glancing at the floor.  
Italy watched as Prussia stood. "As he vhas _trying_ to say, as nations, vhe don't alvays agree vith vhat our leaders do. Just because zhe country did it, doesn't mean he agreed vith it, and I highly doubt zhat his opinion has changed. Not only zhat, but I highly doubt zhat Japan agreed vhith his countries' decisions either. And Italy hadn't zhe slightest idea zhat zhere vhas even a var! It's not his fault for any of zhis, at least! He vhas and still is too niave to zhink about somezhing so voilent, and look at vhat youhave done to all of zhem!"  
"But he still did it." America stated. "They all did. They commited a crime."  
"Does it count as crime if zhey vould have probably died if zhey hadn't done it? Haven't any of you heard of self defense!?" Prussia looked angry and flushed, even with his pale complection. The albino's red eyes swept across the allies. Canada and China didn't say anything.

Italy felt slightly surprised at Prussia's bold statement. He usually didn't even participate in meetings, declaring his awesomeness as too much for them all. But now he seemed collected, determined to participate even.  
"Prussia is-a right!" Romano stood beside him, his arms crossed. "I often visited my-a _fratello_ during the war. He-a hadn't the slightest clue there-a was even a war going on!" His anger was starting to show through. Italy glanced to the window. It was raining. There were cars bumper to bumper outside. It was foggy and misty. Like he felt.  
"Yes, I noticed this too." Hungary stood up, staring at him in disdain. "And I agree with Prussia as well, for once. We don't always agree with what our leaders command. We can all agree that Hitler's actions were unnecessary. Even Germany." She gestured to him, and he let out a quick nod.

Italy glanced around and saw a few other nations nodding in agreement. The look on England's face would have been priceless if not for the situation.  
"I have seen battlescars." Ukraine suddenly stated from her seat. "These are not them. These are marks of abuse."  
"Yes, they are." Austria stated. "Who carves symbols into someone's back during war? No one but an interrogator into a prisoner, not two soldiers quarelling on a battlefield. Who did this?"  
China suddenly hit the table with her head, pressing her hands to her face. She began to cry, and Canada stiffly patted her back. "I'm sorry." She stated quietly, but it was easy to hear in the near silence of the room. "I really, really, am sorry."  
Russia leaned across the narrow table and snatched her wrist, silencing her.

Japan let out a muffled shout; "Nnmmph!" as China pulled her wrist away with wide, terrified eyes.  
Italy saw what was happening. The fear China had for Russia was the same fear he had for France. He let out a muffled shout as well.  
"Mmmph! Hhmmp-mm!"  
"Silence!" England exclaimed, pointing a finger. Japan's head instantly went down, but Italy continued to let out muffled shouts of ceasefire.  
"Hhmmph-mm! Mmmph!" He started to pull against his restraints.  
"Silence him, please." England stated sourly.  
America stood up and stalked over quicker than Italy could react, and next thing he knew, America's balled fist had collided with his ribs, and hard. Nation's like him would be not only coupled with power, but strength.

Italy heard another crack.

He froze, his eyes going wide as he struggled to keep balance. Tears began to stream down his face as pain screamed through his side.  
"Thank you." England stated briskly.  
Hungary was slack jawed, staring back and forth between from where Italy was hanging by his wrists, hardly balancing on his toes, to America, and then England.  
"You son of a bitch!" She exclaimed. She was about to surge forward when Austria grabbed her arm and Prussia forced her into her seat.  
"Don't." Prussia stated, glancing at Germany, who was glaring daggers into England. "It vill only make it vorse."  
Hungary growled deep in her throat, giving America a full on evil eye.

"Can we please decide what to do with the criminals?" England stated, sounding annoyed.  
"Da, we must continue the meeting." Russia stated cheerily. China looked down.  
"Criminals?" Everyone glanced at Canada. "Criminals?" He was scoffing, looking confused and overall infuriated. "You think, that _they_ are _criminals_?" His voice was quiet, but he still sounded angry, jabbing a finger towards the three. He stepped away from his chair, stalking towards England as he continued to speak.  
"I spent hours giving Italy alone medical attention! I watched both him and Japan be dragged away and raped by France! I pulled both Japan and Italy from a cove with no help! I listened to America beat Italy to a bloody pulp whenever Germany moved to defend him, to defend them both! If Japan wasn't already worse for wear, he sure as hell probably can't walk right now! I watched while Germany was forced to watch you 'allies' you 'heroes' shoot at Italy to make him cry, for _pure entertainment!_ And you _still think that they. Are. The Criminals!?"_ By the time Canada had finished his rant, he was face to face with England, poking his chest, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Everyone stared.  
Prussia, Hungary, Romano and Switzerland all seemed shocked by this.  
"This really happened, _amigo_?" Spain asked, looking at France in disbelief. "France..."  
"Yes. I watched it all. I bear witness to it." Canada said. "Not only that, but China was _forced_ to carve that symbol into their backs! While we were in the other truck I heard Russia threatening her. She had no choice!"  
Ukraine gave Russia a dangerous look. "Is this true, brother?"  
Russia glared at China, who seemed to wither in her seat. "Da." He said quietly.

Sealand cowered. "Keep them away from me! I don't want that to happen to me!" He hid behind the Nordics, who formed a solid wall in front of him.  
"If the kid calls them bad, then I do too." Denmark stated, holding Sealand closely.  
"I as well!" Ukraine stood, raising her hand and marching to the opposite side of the table.  
"Count my vote!" Switzerland stood and raised his hand.  
Liechtenstien stood behind him. "Me too!"  
Spain glanced at France, and then at Prussia. "This has crossed the line." He stood and raised his hand.  
Australia nodded grimply. "I have to agree with you, mates."  
Greece nodded in agreement. "Uncalled for."  
"This is too cruel!" Poland declared, raising his hand.  
Hungary rose defiantly. "I can't stand with this!" She rose her hand.  
Austria followed in suit. "I can't stand for zhis eizher!" He rose a hand as well.  
A few more countries followed in suit, the rest of the Nordics, most of the Medditerainian countries, and even Lithuania and Latvia from the Soviet Union joined the other side of the table. Seychelles scooted away from France quickly -she had been one of his colonies- in disgust, moving to stand by Sealand and Leichtenstien, raising her hand.  
"I want this to be over!" Canada moved away from England, standing near Hungary. He raised his hand, ad then glanced over at China, who was staring at him.

"Don't worry about Russia." He said quietly. "I'll help you." She smiled at him, tears in her eyes. She pushed away from her seat and marched to stand by him, raising her hand.  
"I'm sorry!" She exclaimed through tears. "I truly am!"  
Prussia stood. "I vant my little brudder back!"  
Romano stood beside him, staring at Italy. "I want my little _fratello_ back too."

Italy began to cry, biting his gag to keep himself from trying to speak. He stared back at Romano. He had tears in his eyes.  
They were going to be saved.

But then realization hit him like an earthquake. His eyes widened. Where was Russia? He couldn't see him. During all the movement, it seemed he had dissapeared from his seat.

Suddenly, China screamed. Russia dragged her over to stand beside Italy, and he used his right arm to pin her to his chest. In his right hand was a knife, poised over her throat. Russia's hand flew out like lightning as Russia drew another knife in his left hand and held it over Italy's throat.  
"They will be disintegrated, da?" Russia spoke slowly and darkly. "They will become one with mother Russia. All of them."


	19. Chapter 19

The twenty three opposing countries glanced at each other. Italy held his head up so his neck wouldn't be cut. He spotted Seychelles whispering to Leichtenstien and Sealand. After a few momments, they dissapeared under the table, being so small. Within momments the three burst from beneath it, Seychelles latching onto Russia's leg, Sealand grabbing his arm, Leichtenstien drawing a handgun from seemingly nowhere. She had a sweet smile on her face as she turned off the safety.  
"My big brother Switzerland has taught me a few things." She stated darkly. The other nations watched in shock. "Release them, or I fire, and you will be immobile for the next forty years."  
Russia's grin fell slightly. "Fine then." He hissed, pushing China away and pulling away both knives. "But this isn't over."

With that he stalked from the room.  
Leichtenstien swung her handgun towards England, who stood up adruptly.  
"Anyone who dare stands against us had better leave the room now, or you stand against a forty year coma too." Sealand and Seychelles stood behind her defiantly.

England sneered, turning red, before gesturing for the others to follow. The other allies and dissagreeing countries left curtly, stalking from the room and glancing back, only to see Leichtenstien aiming the handgun at them.

As soon as the door slammed shut, everyone either sat down to sigh with relief, or rushed forward to the six standing on the other side of the room. Seychelles and Sealand hugged each other, before they ran to the other Nordics and were rewarded with encouragement and hugs.  
Switzerland raced to Leichtenstien and swept her off of her feet, twirling her in the air and raining her with praises.  
Prussia ran forward, vaulting the table and drawing a pocket knife to begin sawing away at his brother's bonds. Canada ran around the table and hugged China before the two cut Japan down. China held him in her arms, sobbing apologies to her brother. Italy watched as Romano ran, Spain following in suit. Romano took Prussia's pocket knife as soon he was finished cutting Germany down.

Romano was crying as he reached up and began sawing away at Italy's bonds. He stood to the side, and Hungary ran forward. She cupped his face in her hands gently, stroking it in a motherly fashion. She began to cry.  
"Oh, Italia... Oh what have they done! What have they done?" She cried, but still she was smiling.  
Italy began to cry too as she untied the gag, and he spoke. His voice was croaky and shaky. " _Madre!? Fratello!?"_ He sobbed, tears of joy streaming down his face, he was smiling as best he could, but the scabs on the sides of his mouth hurt. She kissed his forhead. "Romano, please hurry!"  
"I'm-a trying!" He excliamed angrily. Suddenly the rope snapped, and Italy collapsed onto his knees. He was sobbing wildly, trying to smile. He reached forward to his brother, who leaned down and began cutting the ropes that tied his wrists together. Hungary hugged him, putting her hand behind his head like she used to when he was younger, Romano wrapping his arms around the two of them. They all cried on the floor together, and for once, Italy smiled. He was free. He was truly free, and he didn't have to worry about anyone hurting him like that again.

" _Ti amo."_ He croaked weakly, trying to hug back.  
" _Ti amo!"_ Romano replied, crying just as hard.  
"Me too." Hungary whispered.

Austria spoke from over them, and when Italy looked up through his teary eyes, he saw the man smiling. He knelt down, gripping Italy's hand. "We're going to need to fix you up. We can't take you to a human doctor, or they might expose our existance. I hear that both China and Canada are wonderful doctors, and all three of you will be better in no time."  
Italy nodded.  
"Now, the room was rented for about a week, so we'll do it here. It's better we don't make bad memories at home."  
Italy nodded.

Austria stood. "Good man." He said with a smile.

Italy worked to his knees, crawling over to Germany. Japan managed his way over as well, and Germany wrapped his arms around them both. He was crying too, and so was Japan.

"It's over." Japan whispered as others crowded around to embrace them. "We've defeated it"


	20. Chapter 20

Most of the nations who had decided to stand against the allies stayed to help, and celebrate their success. Since the room was rented, they had curtained off a small portion of the room. There were three cots set up there. Italy insisted that he had the middle cot, so he could be near both Germany and Japan at the same time. China would come with food and water every once and a while, and Canada had realigned both of his ribs. Not only that, but he had new bandages on his forhead and side, and wrapped around his arms to prevent people from hurting the heavy bruises that resided there.

He had a big one on his back too, all of them did. They would all have matching scars with the word 'defeated' on their backs in Chinese.  
Germany said one day that it would remind him of his failure to help them. But Japan insisted that it now represented that they had defeated the enemy and the trials put against them. They had defeated pain, and over a week in the company of criminals. Italy liked to think of it like that. Within a few weeks, he could walk properly again too.

Hungary would hold his hand, and Romano would hover over him whenever he took an unsteady step. He still had trouble eating though. Every once and a while he would cough up phlegm. By now, he was sure he'd coughed up all of his lungs, but he didn't care.  
When he'd finally eaten -it was a small plate of pasta, which had taken over half a day to eat- it felt like the most amazing thing he'd had in what felt like hundreds of years.

By the fourth day of recovery -everyone had slept in cots or on the floor in the rest of the room- he was feeling up to describing his ordeal. Germany had the previous day, but Japan was staying silent.

He described when they'd first been captured, how he'd been blindfolded and tied up and thrown -quite literally- into the back of a truck, beaten up by America, starved, shot at, left to freeze, dragged forcefully from safety and violated, nearly drowned, frozen again, hung by his wrists while trying to balance on his toes, had Chinese characters carved into his back -China had begun to cry and apologise again at that point, but once again, he forgave her- and how France had twice more tried to violate him, leading up to the meeting.

For the next three days, Hungary wouldn't stop hovering over him, and Ukraine would be there almost every hour asking if they needed anything. Austria found a small piano in the large closet. Liechtenstien, Seychelles and Sealand would spend almost three hours with them every day, and Italy loved it, because he hadn't spent time with children in what felt like forever. Romano would stay with him forever too.

By the time the week was up, Japan and China took a plane home. Germany stayed at Italy's house though. So did Hungary, Romano and Spain.

He didn't visit his older brother France or America for a few years after that. He would always wear a top at the beach too, no matter how hot it was. And at night, he would look at the scar.

Defeated.

It was true. He had been defeated. But he had also defeated things that may people couldn't claim to.

And he would smile. He would laugh. He would spend time with friends, with his brother and mother. He would run and paint, and he would be happy.

But he would never forget. No, he would never forget the pain, or the events he had survived.

But he would live with it. He was stronger now because of it.

He had defeated his monsters.


	21. Chapter 20-5 (Hungary's POV)

**Defeated**  
 **Hungary's POV**

She was nervous. She was biting her lip, tapping her toe, wringing her wrists and staring out the window.

"Elizabeta." She glanced over at Austria as he spoke calmly. He had a sympathetic expression on his face. "Calm down. Please."  
"I'm sorry." She replied, ceasing all movement and resorting to fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "Just a nervous tick, I suppose." She stated.

The car came to a stop outside a different building this time. It wasn't where World Meetings where usually held. Instead it was in some big office building with a small garage underneith, and a lot of big rooms. England had rented a room for the entire week. Why? She didn't know. What that man did was out of her hands.

She stepped out of the cab, Austria following holding the door open for her. She thanked him, before her eyes went to the door of the building. They had arrived for a post-war meeting to decide what to do with the Axis. Germany, Japan and Italy. She didn't know Japan, but she knew Germany. He was kind, strict and level to the rules, but still open minded and happy. Happy-ish. She didn't know how to put it. But her main concern was Italy. She had raised him as her own son, and she loved him like that. Of course she was worried about him. She hadn't seen her 'child' in what felt like much too long, and she was eager to see him again.

She entered the building, pushing through the thin cold mist that hung over the entire city. It was drizzling slightly when she entered, Austria following her. The enterance room was large, and bright, with a big staircase up the middle, with a platform where the staircase split to go two ways. Austria began to lead, but she was only a pace or two behind as he turned left at the platform, strutting up another small flight of stairs before turning into a long hallway. The room at the end was where the meeting was being held. She saw who appeared to be Bulgaria enter the room, sliding the door shut behind him.

She followed Austria down the hall.  
She was excited to see Italy again. In her mind's eye, she saw him sitting at one end of the table with the other two Axis members, while the Allies sat at the other side. That was how most post-war conferences went.

But when she opened the door, it was a completely different sight.  
The Axis looked like pigs ready for the meatlocker, hanging by their wrists. They were all barely standing on their toes, trying to balance there so the ropes wouldn't dig into their wrists too much. Germany was staring at the floor, hanging on the far side, while Japan hung on the other, pulling down on the ropes to try and free himself.  
And then there was Italy. He seemed to have the worst injuries of both Germany and Japan combined, swaying on his toes, pulling lightly on the ropes holding his wrists over his head. He had an ugly gash on his forhead, a gash on his face. He had small, almost nibble-like bitemarks on his neck, indicating something Hungary could have never imagined. He was shirtless, and shivering, covered with dirt and grime. He had tear tracks running down his face and onto the floor, a small stream of blood falling from the corner of his mouth. He looked like he was still crying, his amber eyes wide and wet. Just like the other two, there was a gag refraining him from speaking, digging into the sides of his mouth. It looked oily and disgusting. He had another wound on his side, a thin layer of skin and flesh seemingly moved out of the way, a scab sitting where it should have been. He was thin, not too thin, but thin enough for her to see that there was a rib out of place in the same area of the gash, almost impossible to make out under his bruised skin. Dark purple and black bruises covered his arms and back, and with that was a mid-sized, Chinese symbol, looking as if it had been carved with a knofe between his shoulderblades.  
Hungary, as she stared, realized that all three of them had the same symbol carved into their backs.

As if they'd been branded.

She could sense Austria's mouth fall open in shock, and it took all of her not to run at the Allies right now and sock them all in the face. On the other hand, she was worried for her baby. Her child. Her life's work, hanging by a frayed rope with a symbol carved into his back and what would have to be scars already forming.  
She was about to rush forward when Austria put a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, feeling tears form in her eyes. He shook his head. 'Not now', he seemed to say. 'Wait for the right momment. Speak now, but wait to move'. She pursed her lips, before whirling towards where the Allies sat comfortably.

"I have raised that child almost from birth!" She was already screaming at them, but she didn't care."Half of you have known them all since before then! How could you do this!?" She didn't care if all of England heard her! She was the mamma bear, and she was angry. She felt like she was going to rip her hair out in frustration as England shot her an annoyed glance.  
"Hungary." Austria stated quietly, leaning into whispering range. "We'll try to get them out of this, just sit down."  
She glanced back at Italy and the two other Axis before seating herself stiffly in one of the chairs at the far end of the table, away from the Allies.

After a while, all of the nations arrived, and the meeting began.

"Now, let's begin." England stood, placing his hands on the table as if looking over a map. Hungary felta sick pull in her stomach."We all know that the purpose of this meeting is decide what to do with the criminals."

Switzerland suddenly stood, banging his fist on the table; staring daggers into England. "You think they're the criminals!? Who, in their right mind, would think that they are criminals!?" Switzerland was loud enough to scream at all of London to hide in their basements.  
"Brother, please calm down." Leichtenstien tugged his sleeve from her seat beside him. Even for a smaller, younger country, she was still quite wise. "That's no way to go about stating your point."  
Switzerland bit his lip and sat down stiffly, crossing his arms.

"As I was saying, punishment could vary to disintegration. We all know this."  
"I believe they've been punished enough." Poland spoke this time, looking as if he was trying not to shout as Switzerland had a few momments before.  
"You don't forget what they -mainly he- did to the Jews? Other people?" France looked as if he was at least attempting to be reasonable.  
Hungary spotted Germany's head pop up like fire in a lighter. He seemed angry, pulling against the ropes and trying vainly to speak through the gag.  
"Shut up!" England exclaimed suddenly. Germany instantly went silent, staring at the floor again.  
Hungary heard herself let out an exhasperated scoff of disbelief. Who did this man think he was?

Prussia stood a fair chairs away, speaking clearly and loudly."As he vhas _trying_ to say, as nations, vhe don't alvays agree vith vhat our leaders do. Just because zhe country did it, doesn't mean he agreed vith it, and I highly doubt zhat his opinion has changed. Not only zhat, but I highly doubt zhat Japan agreed vhith his countries' decisions either. And Italy hadn't zhe slightest idea zhat zhere vhas even a var!"  
"But he still did it." America stated simply, glancing around at all of the other nations. "They all did. They commited a crime."  
"Does it count as crime if zhey vould have probably died if zhey hadn't done it? Haven't any of you heard of self defense!?" Prussia seemed angry, his albino complexion reddening. His red eyes glistened venomously, and he gritted his teeth.  
Hungary couldn't help but feel surprised by this. Usually Prussia didn't even come to world meetings, much less participate in them. She felt proud though.

"Prussia is-a right!" Romano, the representation of Southern Italy, stood, looking angry. "I often visited my-a _fratello_ during the war. He-a hadn't the slightest clue there-a was even a war going on!" He sounded more angry than grumpy, which was unusual, using it to push his words.  
"Yes, I noticed this too." Hungary finally stood up, taking a deep breath to calm herself, glancing at Italy, who was watching the whole conversation keenly. "And I agree with Prussia as well, for once. We don't always agree with what our leaders command. We can all agree that Hitler's actions were unnecessary. Even Germany." She extended a hand in Germany's direction, and the bound nation nodded briskly.

Hungary watched as a few other nations seemed to glance at each other and murmur in agreement. "I have seen battlescars." Ukraine spoke, looking at Russia and glaring slightly. He didn't say anything, but seemed awary of her words. She usually didn't speak at all."These are not them. These are marks of abuse."  
"Yes, they are." Austria stood up beside Hungary, making his statement. "Who carves symbols into someone's back during war? No one but an interrogator into a prisoner, not two soldiers quarelling on a battlefield. Who did this?" He seemed a bit angry as he said this.  
Suddenly China spoke, burrying her face in her hands and beginning to cry. "I'm sorry." Her words were almost innaudible, but as soon as she opened her mouth, anyone could hear a pen drop clearly. "I really, really, am sorry."  
Hungary watched with wide eyes as Russia reached across the table and snatched her wrist, glaring at her darkly. She silenced quickly, whiping away the tears with the sleeves of her kimino. The other had remained trapped in his grip for a moment though, and she stared at it, terrified.

Japan began to struggle against his bonds, trying to say something through the gag. "Nnmmph!"  
China wiggled her wrist from Russia's grip, staring at him with wide eyes.  
Hungary watched as Italy seemed to catch on at what was going on and began to struggle and make noise too.  
"Mmmph! Hhmmp-mm!"  
"Silence!" England shouted, and after a momment Japan's head went down and he stopped. But Italy kept going. Hungary wasn't sure whether or not to feel proud or terrified for him. He continued to make noise, even after England shot him a glare.  
"Hhmmph-mm! Mmmph!" He kept going, as if aware of how terrified China had been of Russia. As if he had experienced that fear before.  
"Silence him, please." England stated again, snapping towards Italy, who only paused for a moment.  
Hungary watched, a hand over her mouth, as America stood and seemed to pop his knuckles. She was aware of everyone's eyes on Italy as he began to get panicked, pulling away from America. Within seconds America's fist collided with the area just above the wound on his side. She jumped as he let out a cry of pain through the gag, and began to cry silently, taking large and shaky breaths. His head hung to his chest.  
"Thank you." England stated briskly, sounding annoyed.

Hungary stared, working her jaw, trying to figure out what to say. She could feel her face turning red as she began to shake. She didn't care what Austria thought anymore! She was getting to the breaking point!  
"You son of a bitch!" She screeched loudly. She waved her arms franticly, before slamming them at her sides and staring at America angrily. He seemed indifferent to his actions and her reaction.  
"Don't." Prussia put a hand on her shoulder, gesturing for her to sit down. "It vill only make it vorse."  
Hungary seated herself swiftly, staring at America angrily before sending a glance to Italy, who's knees had buckled, leaving him to hang weakly.

"Can we please decide what to do with the criminals?" England asked, beginning to sound exhasperated.  
"Da, we must continue the meeting." Russia said, glancing around darkly.  
"Criminals?" Everyone's attention went to Canada, who also stayed mostly quiet. "Criminals?" He scoffed again, looking shocked as he stood in his seat beside China. "You think, that they are criminals?" Even with his quiet voice, it was clear he was fuming, staring from behind his glasses at the Allies.  
"I spent hours giving Italy alone medical attention! I watched both him and Japan be dragged away and violated by France! I pulled both Japan and Italy from a cove with no help! I listened to America beat Italy to a bloody pulp whenever Germany moved to defend him, to defend them both! I watched while Germany was forced to watch you 'allies' you 'heroes' shoot at Italy to make him cry, for _pure entertainment!_ And you _still think that they are the criminals!?"_  
Hungary felt pride swell in her chest as Canada leaned down to where England sat in his chair. He was nose to nose with the Brit, poking his chest with every forceful word. England seemed slightly suprised by the quiet nation's outburst.

Everyone stared, shocked and surprised, not only at his outburst, but at the words that escaped his mouth.  
Hungary was shocked. She wasn't sure if it had really happened, but Canada looked just as angry as everyone else. She glanced at Italy, who was still crying. She saw Switzerland ball his fists on the table, and Spain stared at France in shock. Prussia was staring at his brother Germany, who was back to staring at the floor in shame.  
"This really happened, _amigo_?" Spain looked at France, an incredulous look on his face. "France..."  
"Yes. I watched it all. I bear witness to it." Canada hissed angrily. "Not only that, but China was _forced_ to carve that symbol into their backs! While we were in the other truck I heard Russia threatening her. She had no choice!"  
Ukraine glanced at Russia in surprise. "Is this true, brother?"  
Russia shot another warning look at China, who seemed to wither in her seat under his gaze. "Da." He answered, still not glancing away from China.

"Keep them away from me! I don't want that to happen to me!" Sealand exclaimed, wedging his seven year old form behind the Denmark and Finland. Sweden, Poland and Norway shot a few dangerous glares at the Allies.  
"If the kid calls them bad, then I do too." Denmark said coldly, hugging Sealand protectively.  
"I as well!" Ukraine exclaimed, raising her hand and marching to the other side of the table.  
"Count my vote!" Switzerland raised his hand quickly, standing triumphantly.  
Leichtenstien stood beside her adoptive brother, raising her hand."Me too!"  
Spain looked back and forth between France, a look of betrayal on his face, before glancing at Prussia with a nod. "This has crossed the line."  
Australia nodded simply, standing as well. "I have to agree with you, mates."  
Greece nodded, standing as well. "Uncalled for."  
"This is too cruel!" Poland declared angrily, raising his hand as the other Nordics followed in suit.

Hungary rose defiantly, her face spelled with anger. "I can't stand with this!" She let her hand raise high above her head. She was just as sick of it as the other countries, if not more.  
Austria followed in suit, glancing at her with a nod. "I can't stand for this either!" He raised a hand as well.  
A few more Mediterranian countries followed in suit, including Turkey; who seemed upset by this also. Much to everyone's suprise, Estonia jumped from his chair, shooting a betrayed look at Russia before going to stand with the other countries. Seychelles scooted away from France, a disgusted look on her young face. She had been one of his colonies, and often looked up to him. Her face said something different from respect as she raised her hand and stood inbetween Leichtienstien and the Nordics, glancing at Sealand sadly.  
"I want this to be over!" Canada finally backed away from England, who was staring at the ominous group of nations with a hint of fear spelled across his face.  
China remained in her seat, watching Russia for a momment before glancing at the group vainly.  
"Don't worry about Russia." Canada said quietly. "I'll help you." She stood, being enveloped by the rest of the group protectively. She began to cry as she raised her hand. "I'm sorry!" She exclaimed through tears. "I truly am!"  
Prussia stood, and anger spelled across his pale features. "I vant my little brudder back!"  
Romano stood adruptly, raising his hand as well. "I want my little _fratello_ back too."

Hungary smiled as she looked around at the other nations, a feeling of satisfaction settling in the pit of her stomach. She smiled proudly, keeping her hand up straight and tall. She felt proud. She kept her eye on Italy, who was staring wide eyed through his tears at all of the nations standing up for him, Japan and Germany.

Suddenly, somenone screamed. The whole group whipped their heads around to spot Russia, grabbing China by the hair. Her eyes were wide with panic, and she gripped his arm, tears gathering in her eyes as she was dragged towards where the Axis hung helplessly. Japan pulled against his restraints, looking angry. He went quickly, as Russia pulled out a knife and held it to her throat.  
Hungary felt her stomach sink sickeningly as Russia pulled another knife and held it against Italy's throat. Even if they couldn't die as nations, a slit throat for both of them would be extremely bad. Not fatal, but bad.

"They will be disintegrated, da?" Russia's voice was forboding. "They will become one with mother Russia. All of them."

There was a long, nervous pause, and no one dared move. Hungary highly doubted that anyone even breathed. She stared, making eye contact with Italy, who seemed terrified. His eyes where wide as he continued to cry, holding his head up so his throat wouldn't get hit by the blade. He was looking around wildly for help, not even trying to speak.

Suddenly, faster then anyone could react; Leichtenstien, Sealand and Seychelles flew from under the table like rabid dogs. Sealand latched onto Russia's arm, while Seychelles took his leg and held onto it tightly. Russia pressed the knife slightly harder against China's neck, causing her to make a weak choking noise.

Leichtenstien stood, pressing the barrel of a handgun to the towering nation's brow. The two stared coldy at each other for what felt like eons. Her gaze was dark and shadowed, and it was something Hungary had never expected to be expressed on her sweet, childish face. Russia seemed slightly taken back, staring back and forth between the barrel of the gun to the small, childlike nation holding it. China stared at it too, her mouth agape as she tried to slowly wiggle away.  
"My big brother Switzerland has taught me a few things." She said after a long pause, her gaze growing even more intense and daunting. "Release them, or I fire, and you will be immobile for the next forty years." Her words where dripping with a threatening venom, her stare colder than ice.

Russia's proud gaze faltered. "Fine then." He hissed. He whipped away the knives, pushing China away roughly, letting her collapse on the floor in shock. He stalked out of the room quickly, leaving the doors wide open as he strode out.  
Leichtenstien twirled around as soon as he had stepped foot out of the room, sending her gaze on the Allies and Soviet Union, who where still sitting. Her gun barrel followed, landing on England.  
He leaned back in surprise, his eyes going wide as she pulled back the safety, her finger dancing over the trigger teasingly.  
"Anyone who dare stands against us had better leave the room now, or you stand against a forty year coma too." She still sounded threatening as she glowered at them.

England turned red, fuming, but he still jumped up out of his chair and stalked from the room, staring at the gun until he left. Soon after that America and France followed, and the rest of the Soviet Union, as well as the few other nations who had dissagreed.

As soon as the door was pulled shut, the tension almost melted away. Hungary felt her stomach flutter as she rushed forward. She could see Prussia charging forward to assist his brother, Canada coming forward between Japan and China.

But all she could do was stare at her poor Italy. Romano was right by her side, Austria and Spain not far behind. Prussia began sawing away at the ropes, Canada withdrawing his own knife and beginning to saw away at Japan's.  
Hungary began to cry as she as pulled away the gag, tossing away the filth. She cupped his face in her hands lovingly, pressing her forhead against his.  
"Oh, Italia... Oh what have they done! What have they done?" She whispered. Italy cried, pressing his forhead into hers. When he spoke, his voice was weak, shaky, raspy.  
" _Madre!? Fratello!?"_ He exclaimed. She pressed a kiss on his forhead, tears of pure and absoloute joy and relief sliding down both of their faces.  
"Romano, please hurry!" She exclaimed.  
"I'm-a trying!" He retorted, continuing to saw away at the ropes.

As if on cue, the rope snapped and he collapsed to the floor. But Hungary was right there with him, holding his weak, shaking form closely on her lap. She hugged him tightly, and he attempted to hug back as Romano cut away at the ropes holding his wrists together. As soon as those where gone, Romano hugged them both as well, beginning to cry.

" _Ti amo."_ She heard him whisper softly.  
" _Ti amo!"_ Romano answered, sobbing in relief.  
"Me too." Hungary whispered back.

They all held each other for a momment, and Austria said something, but she couldn't make it out of the chatter in the room. After a few minutes, Italy pulled himself away and shifted to hug the other two Axis members, who where being loved by others who had stood up for them.

"It's over." She heard Japan say quietly. "We defeated it."

A few weeks later, she found herself walking down the stairs of Italy's small house in the middle of the night. She had made it her duty to stay with him while he recovered, and his brother was merely down the street. She simply couldn't leave him alone. She was terrified that if she left, she would find that he wasn't there anymore. That she would find him even worse in one of the Allies' clutches.

She could feel tears gather in her eyes at the thought.  
Where had she been!? What had she been doing at that time that was too important for her to at least try to contact him!? Why hadn't she tried to call him, or send a letter? She felt a painful guilt begin to tear its a hole in her insides, tears beginning to make their way down her face.

She could still see it. That smug look on England's face, the sickening expression of greed whenever France looked at Japan or Italy. She hadn't defeated that. She hadn't defeated the mental image -burned into her mind- of America standing and with a single inhuman blow, breaking one more bone. The fear on all of their faces. The guilt and shame on both China and Canada's.

She shakily reached up and opened the cupboard to retrieave a small cup. She went to the sink to fill it with water, finding her hands shook voilently as the thoughts kept resurfacing over and over again. She fumbled with the cup for a moment.  
Italy still needed to sleep. She knew that loud noises could provoke nightmares of what had happened. She couldn't wake him.  
Hungary began shaking so hard she had to run to the sink to drop it in there. She flinched as she heard a loud thud as it hit the tin basin's bottom.

Hungary began to cry.  
She could have stopped this. He was basically her child, for God's sake. Why hadn't she tried to talk to him? Why?  
She sank to the floor in the kitchen, in the dark, letting that single word resonate through her mind.

Why?

There where so many questions, silent answerless questions, running through her head as she sat on the floor, trying not to cry as shame and guilt and fear for her child hit her like boulders.

She didn't hear the stairs creak, or the soft footsteps heading towards the kitchen.  
A quiet, sleepy voice broke the meloncholy silence.

" _M-Madre?"_  
She glanced up to see Italy standing in the doorway. His eyes where half lidded, and the bandage around his head was slightly loose from sleeping. The gashes on his face where now simply puffy cuts. He had a large bandage over the carving in his back, and the wound on his side. Most of the bruises where almost gone, the cuts where healing quickly. But he still looked ragged and tired.  
"Go back to bed, Feli." She muttered, standing.  
He seemed hesitant, as if he was aware of her inner conflict. He seemed to decide against saying anything, simply going upstairs again without another word.

She stayed like that for a while.

Even if Italy had defeated it, there where still things that Hungary herself had to defeat as well. She wasn't sure if she could do it. She still had monsters, and they where terrifying.

She had to defeat them though.  
For Italy. She could defeat her monsters if she tried.


	22. Chapter 21 (China's POV)

China sat in the back of the truck.  
Her eyes where glued to the floor, and she hadn't the slightest clue what to say. Heck, she couldn't say anything at all.

Yes. She was dissapionted in Japan. That boy -at least, from her point of view- was not someone to do things like that. But war changed people. It changed everybody. She knew that, and she had almost too much experience with it. She had suffered so many wars, she didn't even remember all of them most of the time. It would probably take a while to write down how many she had been in.

Yes, she was dissapionted. Maybe slightly angry.

But the moment she saw those two, the two others, in the back of that truck, her heart sank into her gut. Every instinct was telling her not to put Japan in there, but she didn't see any other alternatives.  
She continued to stare at the floor.

The truck was reasonably warmer than she would have thought. Most of the flaps had been successfully sealed off, and the back of the truck was tall and thick. It was very warm inside, indeed.

China began to feel guilty. The other truck was freezing cold, aside from the cab. France was driving that one. Canada was in the back keeping an eye on them.

She was currently sitting in the back of the warmer truck. In front and driving was America, England passanger's seat shouting instructions. She could hear him shouting at the American to slow down and even on a sickening occasion, get onto the correct side of the road. The only other person present was Russia.  
He sat in the back with her, fiddling with that strange pipe he always carried. It looked as if it had come out of a sink, and an the old and brittle stems of sunflowers where tangled around it. She had never seen him use it, but the blunt end did not seem to be a pretty sight.

She let out a quiet sigh. She fiddled with her hands in her lap and continued trying anything to direct her attention away from the other, taller, bigger nation sitting just across from her. She let her thoughts escape, unlocked from their practiced and wise cage.

China wasn't that angry anymore. No, she was guilty. She felt very guilty for them. They where all probably cold and -in both Italy and Germany's case- wounded badly. She didn't know where they had gotten those from, but some blood looked fresher than other parts. She shuddered at the thought, stiffening her shoulders to stop the strange shaking motion.

She could feel Russia's eyes land on her.

She pushed away the thought however, thinking about other things.  
They where simply representations. But they where still people. They still had their own opinions and thought processes, and that didn't mean they always went with the flow. From what she had heard from Prussia, Germany had tried as much as he could to stay away from warzones. Apparently he despised what the Nazis where doing. Then again, he wouldn't have had much a choice but to follow, albiet reluctantly. And in the end, not following could become a figurative suicide, for both the country _and_ the representative.

She also knew that it had taken all of Japan's will and patience to bomb America's harbor. She remembered that phone call after, and he had been in tears. He had said he was sorry and that he was just trying to warn him to stay away and not get caught up in the thick of things.

"You seem troubled, da?" Russia spoke.  
She awoke from her stupor quickly, her eyes flying up to his face.  
"Oh." She mumbled. "Don't mind me. I'm just thinking."  
The look on the greater nation's face seemed to darken slightly as he continued to speak.  
"What about?"  
"Just the Axis." She spoke slightly louder this time. "Nothing much."  
"The Axis? Don't tell me you're feeling bad." Russia seemed to hiss these words, and it was apparent that he wasn't simply trying to spark a conversation. She didn't know where this was going.  
" _Shì de_..." she nodded uncertainly, "I guess I am."

He sneered. "You women countries. They disgust me, no? You are weak underlings after a few hundered years." Russia let out an exhausted sigh. "Why do you feel bad for those swine? They have done nothing but take from us so far. They deserve what is coming to them."  
China could feel her face redden with anger at the words coming out of his mouth.  
"You think that we are weak, aru!? I have lived here longest, therefore I am strongest. You mustn't speak of anyone that way!"  
Within moments there was a loud pop, and the skin on her face began to smart. She let out a gasp of surprise as Russia pulled his hand back, a scowl spread across his face. Her cold hand instantly went to her cheek, and she could feel the sting under her palm, almost like venom.

"You say that you are strong? You have two ways to prove it to me." Russia stood, towering over the shorter by almost a foot and a half.

All of the sudden she felt ridiculously small. She could feel her heart beat slightly quicker as she withered back into her seat.

"Either you will feel this here pipe and broken ribs, and you will bleed." He paused as she let out a shaky gasp. "Or you will punish the Axis for what they have done. Harshly."  
She stared as he withdrew a knife from a pocket in his long coat. He held it out to her, and the two made eye contact.

"Choose." He said.

She swallowed. She could remember small whisperings by Lathuania or Latvia, even Estonia, about being broken down by Russia. From what she knew it was horrible, and never really stopped.

Shakily, she reached forward and took the knife, before hiding it in the long sleeves of her kimino.

Russia smiled in a satisfactory way, placing the pipe on the bench beside him.  
"Good choice." He murmered.

But she wasn't listening anymore. She was staring at the floor, comprehending what she had just done. Russia was a clever man. By taking the knife, she knew that she was deep down into the well. If she did not punish the Axis in a satisfactory way, not only would she be punished, but they would likely be as well. Not only that, but if she didn't do it at all, they would all be hurt badly.

She swallowed the lump gathering in her throat.

What had she done?


	23. Chapter 22 (China's POV)

China took a deep, troubled breath. She looked at the knife on the stand beside her bed. She cold see the long, narrow blade glinting in the almost nonexistant light, winking at her, telling her he had no choice. She could still feel Russia's cold words, and the now red mark on her face still throbbed, even though it had been almost six hours since the event.

Russia was terrifying. Those deep, dark, almost violet eyes, and paleness to measure up to some sort of spirit. His height alone would have been daunting, he was taller than most, though still not the tallest person she had met.

She pulled back her kimino shirt sleeves, reaching out to grab the knife. Just holding it felt dangerous, as if it would whip around and hit her square in the chest.  
She was scared.

She was scared for herself.  
And she was scared for the Axis.

She had told England the night before that she had wanted to permit her own punishment. Of course, he had been open to the idea. He seemed to have some sort of vandetta against them, all three.

She heard a small, brisk knock echo against her door.  
"Come in." She spoke, slipping the knife into her sleeve and standing.  
" _Ni-hao_ , England." She bowed briskly as England entered the room.  
The man seemed slightly disgruntled, dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was a thin, expressionless line. His wild blonde hair was even more unruly than usual. He had a large coil of rope slung over his shoulder, and a horsewhip in hand.  
"Don't worry about formalaties, dear." England stated, almost grumpily, but he seemed to be trying to be kind. "Are you coming, or not?"  
She nodded solemnly, following him outside and down the steps of the little cabin.

She could hear rocks bumping together under her small shoes, and it felt like it would be a miracle if none got stuck inside them. The area was small, a clearing with gravel spread across it, a small gravel road leading to a transport road. The cove was surrounded thickly by trees, great oaks and weeping willow trees hanging over to see their reflection in the water. It was raining, it had been earlier that day. China could see small muddy puddles forming nearby, small streams making their way into the cove.

This place was beautiful.  
And so many terrible things had happened both in and around it.

China recognized the truck almost immeadiately. It was more beat up then others, but still operable. The top half of the door seemed to have been torn away, and the tarp tied over it hung loosely. She felt very guilty now. England took a moment to mess with the lock, before letting the door fall down with a loud bang.  
The occupants seemed to be startled by the loud sound.

She could feel her heart sink.  
Japan was leaning against Germany. He seemed tired, and dissoriented, barely aware of what was going on. Germany was sitting quite straight, perhaps even defiantly, as he shot an angry glare at the two of them. She nearly looked away under that gaze. Italy was trembling in his grip, Germany's tied hands looped over his head and supporting his back. There was blood on the floor, and a small bowl with some sort of fleshy substance inside. It took a moment for her to realize that it was phlegm.  
Much to her relief, it seemed that Japan was practically uninjured, save for the small amount of blood at the corners of his mouth, the dark circles under his eyes, and the sweat against his pale and clammy skin. Barely noticeable, was a dark, almost black, bruise resting just beneath his jaw.

Germany and Italy, however, where not as fortunate.  
She could barely make out a very dirty black bandage barely clinging to Germany's chest, dyed purple in some spots from some sort of grizzly injury. There where reddish hand marks around his throat, and he seemed tired and beat. Bruises riddled across his shoulders and collarbones, and if even his hands where balled into fists, it was clear they where shaking from malnutrition.  
Italy was trembling, his head pressed against his larger companion's chest. He seemed to be on the verge of tears, trying to see who was there. She could make out blood caking his forehead and copper hair, and she felt the urge to retch as she saw the wound on his side. The flesh in that area was brown and purple, cuts from a beating gathering to a large portion of flesh that would have been hanging away if not for the red scabs that held it in place. He too, had red hand prints around his neck. He seemed scared out of rationality.

England stepped inside, and Germany's glare hardened, He pulled Italy closer, Japan also shifting and trying to get closer to the strongest of them.  
Germany spoke, gritting his teeth and glaring.  
"Leave zhem alone." He hissed. "Zhey don't need to suffer anymore."

China felt her stomach drop as he said that. She couldn't help but agree, and she felt as if she was going to cry.

England spoke, however. He laughed bitterly. "You think it's over?" He mocked, some sort of sickening amusement dripping through his voice. "I saw you. I saw you running to the docks. I don't know how you got out, but that, sir, was looking like an escape."  
Germany responded quickly, obviously becoming angry. "Zhen vhy did I come back!?" He shouted with as much force as he could. "Vhy vould I come back to zhis place, unless it vhas zhe only shelter zhat vould even 'help' us for miles all around!?"

England took a step closer, staring down at Germany. Germany stared right back, looking England right in the eyes.  
"You ran." England hissed. "You got out."  
Germany shouted again, his brow furrowing. "Do you not know vhat has happened to zhese two!?"  
Not even moments after Germany finished speaking, England pulled out the horsewhip, hitting him quickly across the face. Germany looked away, staring at the floor. Japan and Italy seemed to go still, staring at England in shock.

"Don't talk back to me!" England spat.

China felt like withering away right there, or simply walking away to avoid the situation, but she knew Russia was watching from one of the cabins.  
She had to stay.

There was a long pause as England straightened himself again. "Oh wait." He stated venomously. "I shouldn't have hit _you._ "  
Within moments the whip tore across Japan's face, causing the small island nation to let out a yelp of pain and surprise.  
China nearly jumped out of her shoes in shock, quickly covering her mouth with a hand.  
She could hear Italy begin to cry as England placed the ropes on the nearby bench, before turning to her. She quickly sobered her expression.

"China, please 'hoist 'em up' as they say on the ships." He commanded.  
She froze for a moment, before pulling herself together. She bit her tongue as she went to tie a long length of rope around Japan's restraints, looping it through the poles holding the tarp up. She sqweezed her eyes shut and pulled. By the time she was sure he was on his feet, she tied it to the side and went to the others.

England pulled Italy away from Germany's protective grip, and she could feel her heart break slightly. Italy began to cry, and Germany tried to move forward and get him back, but England stood in the way. China shot a glance of sympathy at Germany, before repeating the process with Italy. After a few minutes, they all hung from their wrists, almost looking like pigs ready for slaughter.

China swallowed as she finished tying Germany's rope away. She heard him speak.  
"Vhat are you going to do to zhem?" His voice was dangerously low, almost threatening, but there was now way he could fight anyone in this condition.  
"Silence." England replied haughtily.

Germany looked down, and England paced around them with an aprooving nod.  
"Good."  
He sat back down, and China pulled the knife from her sleeve, rolling up the tunic-like shirt, pulling off her shoes. She glanced at the blade with a look of resentment for a moment. An image conjured itself in her mind.

败

She gritted her teeth and dug the blade into Italy's back.  
She paused for a moment as he let out a pure, gutteral scream, trying to pull away from the pain. But she kept carving. Her hands where already covered in blood. She tried to imagine his back as a piece of paper, and the knife as a pen, the blood simply being ink, but it didn't make it any easier. Italy was sobbing as she worked, gritting her teeth and fighting back tears of her own to keep a stoic expression.  
He could hardly hear Japan let out a gasp of shock over Germany's shouts.  
" _STOP IT! STOP!"_  
Germany was shouting much louder now, but it still didn't top Italy's screams of pain. He was hyperventilating, every second welcoming a rapid, seizure-like sob, before that was cut off by the start of another.  
Germany kept shouting at her to stop, almost pleading.  
 _"Bitte!_ Stop, he _can't_ take any more of this _! STOP!"_

But she kept going until the figure was finished. She pulled away, her face heated as she felt her eyes glaze over. She could see red oozing down Italy's pale, shirtless back, see his shoulders shaking as he sobbed helplessly.

She took a moment to step behind Germany, who was trying to look at her, but instead she moved to stand behind Japan.  
She just wanted to get it over with.

She didn't let herself hesitate as she dug the blade into Japan's back. He choked, beginning to sob absoloutely. He tried as best as he could to hide those tears, but it was a futile attempt. She worked quickly, but not sloppily, trying to make every curve in the image correct. She could hear him crying loudly, occasionaly writhing to pull his wrists free of the ropes, but he could not get away. Germany was still shouting, the same thing over and over, trying to stop her.  
 _"STOP HURTING ZHEM! Ich schwöre, wenn du nicht aufhörst verdammt weh spielen sich-!"_  
She almost stopped when he began to speak.  
" _G-gah-gomen'nasia! Shazia shimasu! Watashi wa sore o okonatte irubekide wa arimasen!"_ Japan spoke through rapid hiccups.  
She fpught back tears as she kept working.  
" _G-gomen'nasia! Yamate kudasai!"_ He cried.

China tried not to stop. They would all be screwed if she didn't. But her barely existant understanding of his language made her stomach sink further.  
He was apologising. He was apologising for hurting America. He wanted her to stop.  
As she finished, she leaned in, almost unnoticable. Her words came out as a desperate, needy whisper.

" _Wǒ hěn bàoqiàn. Wǒ bùnéng tíngzhǐ_."

I'm sorry, she had said. I can't stop.

Within moments she stepped behind Germany, who was struggling violently. His wrists where bleeding, and he seemed out of breath. She plunged the blade into his back, and was met with a pain filled shout. His words where silenced quickly. He struggled to get away, each inch of his skin that was torn away causing him to nearly scream. He was using up all of his will to stay quiet, to be brave for the other two.  
She could feel the blood, hot on her palms as she worked. She could feel England's icy stare on her face. She tried all she could not to cry and collapse and apologize right there, and to let them go and race them to her home where she could care for them, but she couldn't.

They would all be hurt then.

She finished, not even moving to wipe he blood off of the knife as she and England walked away. As she climbed out, she heard Germany speak.

She turned around, making eye contact with him.  
His eyes where half lidded, his knees would have buckled if not for the rope holding him there. But still, he stared her straight in the eye as he spoke ragged, breathy words with what little energy he had left.

" _Bitte... ...stopp... ...mehr weh Sie uns auf._.." He rasped.  
She understood that. He wanted them to stop being hurt. And she understood that. What she would give for the other Allies to understand these things.

" _Wǒ hěn bàoqiàn_." She whispered back.  
Before he could answer her, the door was shut. She marched back to her cabin in the rain, not speaking a single word to England. She didn't care about the rocks digging into her feet, or her now sopping wet shoes. She didn't care about the blood on her hands and face. She tried to keep her emotions in check as she saw Russia standing in front of the door to her cabin.

She stood in front of him, the knife in her hand.  
"Well?" She asked quietly, staring up at him.  
Russia sneered, looking at the cove.  
"I could hardly hear them scream." He stated blatantly.  
She felt angry now. She had practically stabbed them all, they would be dead if they weren't countries!  
But she kept her words quiet. "But, _Èluósī_ _..._ all the blood..."  
He grabbed her by the wrists, causing her to drop the knife. She stared in shock.  
"Maybe I should test your... vain attempt at torture? Would you volunteer for me?"  
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence that had begun to hang between them.

"Russia?"  
She looked down to see Canada standing just below the deck, staring up at them. He seemed slightly confused, but he quickly hardened his expression.  
"I-I think France wanted to talk to you." Canada said.  
Russia grunted, pushing China away, she stared at him, gripping onto the railing as he left. He cast a glance back at her, before stalking off to one of the other cabins.  
Canada drew near as she began to sink to the ground.  
"China, are you-" He reached forward to comfort her, but she pulled away.  
" _Bù_! Don't touch me! I'm a fucking sadist!"

The two stared at each other as she started to cry. She put her hands in her blood covered hands and sobbed.  
"My god... I hurt them... I tortured them... I'm just like the others..." She whispered.  
"I-I saw what happened between you and Russia just now, eh?" Canada murmured, pulling her to her feet gently. He opened the door, continuing to speak. "He didn't threaten you, did he?"  
She nodded. " _Shi..."_  
Canada hummed in dissaprooval, seating her on her bed. She probably had blood all over her face now.

"I can stay, if you want." He said softly.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Just leave me."  
"Okay..." The door clicked shut behind him, and she began to cry again, burying her face in hands covered in blood that was not hers.

What had she _done?_


	24. Chapter 23 (Canada's POV)

I feel bad for China.

She is a very strong woman. She is opinionated, and speaks when she feels she needs to. She is also very wise. Everyone knows, she's the oldest one, other then Mongolia or India.  
Thing is, Russia is still the biggest. And he's a clever guy too. He knows how to get what he wants without lifting a finger. Not only that but he's pretty powerful as well.

I guess the two are formidable opponents in a battle of threats, but from what I can tell, China lost.

The image of her practically hanging there in Russia's grip made my stomach sink. I am honestly terrified to help the Axis now. But I know I need to. I could hear screams almost halfway to the other side of the lake, walking. That was why I came back.

It was a good thing he fell for it though. She seemed terrified out of her mind. And that knife... well, I'm holding it right now. I'm sitting on the steps to the cabin she's staying in for now. It's a small little thing, a carving knife I think. I can't tell, it's been a while since I've carved.

The hilt is warm, and a metallic substance. The blade itself is thin, thicker near the base, and would have been silver if not for the fact that it was covered in blood. Hot, thick, smelly blood.

I throw it away and scramble to my feet as I realize what it was used for. I continue to stare at it, sitting there tauntingly in the dirt, covered in blood.  
Blood. Blood. Blood. Oh god, I'm sick of blood. It sounds like a strange noise now, on my tongue, as I whisper it under my breath like a psycopath.

"Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood..." I murmur.

I stare at it. Oh god, I'm sick of it. I want it to be over. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I remember the blood on China's hands, her swearings. Her wild eyes. She had been crying. I can ear her inside there, crying. She feels sick too.

What had she done to the Axis? That knife... her hands... so much... so much _blood._ Oh god... oh god, what has she done? She couldn't have killed them... no... no she _couldn't_ have. It's not even possible. You can't kill a country unless every single trace of it is destroyed. Or it is dissolved.

But god... we're still people! We still live, and breathe, and our health depends on the country we are representing. But we can still be hurt physically as well, by things outside that... oh god... they must be in so much pain.

There was so much blood...

"Hey, Canadia?" I look up as my brother speaks to me. I realize I had been staring blankly at my hands, as if it was _me_ who ad used that knife. But my hands are clean. Bare. Pale. There is not a hint of blood there.  
"Hmm?" I ask. I let my hands fall to my sides as I stare at America, where he is standing just in front of the steps.

"You okay? You look off. I was walking by and I couldn't help notice-"  
"No, I'm fine, eh?" I say slowly, letting a small and innocent smile creep onto my face. "I'm just... thinking."  
"Oh." He says, grinning in that cheesy, nonchalant way. "Alright. What where ya thinkin' about?"  
I speak honestly. "The Axis..."  
He snorts in amusement, or annoyance. I can not tell. "You hit one of 'em yet?" He asks playfully.  
I shrug.

America continues to grin as he raises a brow. "Ya know, Iggy said we all gotta cash in our own punishment, dude."  
"Yeah, yeah, I know." I lie, speaking just as playfully. "In the truck on the way here I got in a few hits, eh?" I chuckle. "Not bad for the little guy, huh?"  
He grins even wider, if possible. "Nice, bro!"  
I smile as he turns to leave. As soon as he is out of range of details, I let that smile falter into a grim scowl. I stare out at the lake blankly, chewing on my tongue as I continue to think.

"Yeah..." I mutter to myself. "Right..."

This world is twisted. Badly. I can't even comprehend it.  
I step down, and grab the knife. I don't even wipe off the blood as I march towards the dock.

I can feel that my arms are stiff, and I am very solemn as I make my way down the path along the lake shore. I march across the deck, and throw that knife into the water. I watch it sink, more slowly than I would have thought. The blood washes off into the cove. I can see fish gather near it in interest.

I grit my teeth for a moment, before screaming out.  
"Damn it all!" I shout at the sky. "Just screw it!"  
I stare back at the lake with a sigh. I don't usually yell like that. I'm mostly quiet, but it felt so good to scream for once. To stop my head from spinning.

I watch until the knife disappears into the depths of that lake. I wish I could drown all of my fears like that. I really do. I wish that throwing that knife in that lake would make all of my problems vanish.

Much to my dismay, that is not how life works. I stand there for a moment, before walking slowly back to the camp. I guess I can call it that. A camp.

I can feel a strong breeze carry itself across the nearby area. I look up and see dark clouds. It's going to start raining again.

I walk towards my cabin, before that truck -that damn truck- catches my eye. I see one of the flaps is higher than it should be. I guess that wind blew it up. I look around, making sure no one is there, before I make my way over. I peer inside.

The Axis hang by their wrists, hardly able to stand, but hanging would hurt their obviously bleeding wrists. I see Italy first of course. He is trembling, crying softly, and tugging at his wrists every once and a while to free himself. It is a vain attempt.  
Japan is doing the same, taking large and shaky breaths to calm himself. He seems barely conscious, his head rolling to his chest and around his shoulders as he tries to stay awake. He is obviously struggling to stay on his feet, and is shivering badly.  
Germany is pulling with all of his might, trying anything to escape, ad most likely free the other two. But the supports are stronger than one would think. It takes me a moment to realize what other changes had been made.

Large, horrible looking gashes where bored right into their backs, and they where still bleeding. Heavily. Their backs where coated with a sickly maroon red, and god did it look painful. They where bound to be infected if they didn't get attention. And that would only make things much more painful. Even worse, it looked like it would take a while for all of the blood to clot. At this point it was still practically pouring out of the wounds.

I step back, still staring inside. The smell is horrible. Thick and metalic, followed by sweat. Oh god... oh god... I can't even imagine...

I lean against it, my head in my hands. I can hear Italy whimpering, and crying. I can hear the strange noises the ropes make when they're being pulled taut by futile attempts at escape. The strange, alien squeaking noise. I don't know how long I sit there, listening to whatever is going on inside, until someone speaks.

For a moment I go still and rigid, as if someone is coming, but realize that no one is around. No one but me, and the Axis sitting helplessly inside that truck.  
I perk my ears to listen.

"...what did we do?..." It was Italy.  
His voice was shaky, and weak. I couldn't heart it if I hadn't been so close. I can feel my heart sink as he says this. What the hell _did_ they do? I want to say nothing, nothing but fight to save themselves, like everyone else had in this war. But I stay quiet.  
There is a long pause before anyone responds to Italy's niave question.  
"Don't vorry about it, Italia." Germany responds softly. "Just try to stay awake. Deep breaths, ya?"  
He too seems very weak. Weak was a word I definately wouldn't use to describe Germany up until now. He was a big, strong man. And smart too, I knew that. And he usually spoke quite firmly, as if to drive his point.  
But now, he seems quiet. Perhaps even sad.

I continue to listen as someone lets out a heavy sigh. I can hear a pair of boots against the floor of the truck, before they go silent once more.  
I go back to sitting against the truck, my chin on my knees. It's cold now. Colder than before. I'd be surprised if it doesn't snow again. I let out a sigh of my own as I stare out at the lake. I feel very, very bad for the Axis. But I don't think it's sympathy. I think it's because I don't understand what is driving the Allies to be so... so... _inhumane_. That's the perfect way to put it.

And now I feel like it's my turn to step up to the plate and help them when no one else is. No one else will though. I squeeze my legs closer, before I hear another sound.

Someone is crying. It's not Italy. Or Japan.  
I pause. It has to be... _Germany_? I peer in again. I can see that Germany has sort of gone limp, and his shoulders are shaking as much as possible. It is clear he is trying to be quiet though, even if the noises are not soft and diluted enough to be unnoticable.

I stand. I can't take this anymore.  
I march off before I can hear anymore, and go to sit outside China's cabin again. But by the time I arrive, she is leaning on her railing, staring at the lake. She is crying, silently, her lips pursed. The wind has dissheveled her hair some, and she looks tired. Wary.

She does not acknowladge my arrival as I come to lean against the railing with her. She lets out sigh. She speaks after a moment, not looking at me.  
"Do you ever feel like your doing something wrong?" She asks softly.  
"What do you mean?" I respond.  
She turns to me. "I can see it. I can see it whenever you look towards that truck, or at the other Allies." Her face falls. "You hate it too, don't you?"  
I nod slowly. "Yeah. I hate it a lot, eh? It's just not right."  
"It's unfair." She finishes for me.  
I shrug, and nod.

We stare at the lake for a while before China speaks again.  
"I- I can't help but worry." She murmurs.  
"What about?"  
"The world meeting."  
She says it bluntly, as if I should understand.  
"What about the world meeting?" I ask, looking at her in confusion.  
"I mean, Norway lost a lot to Germany. She's probably angry at him, and so are the other Nordics. And Tiwan and Hong Kong have a lot to be angry about as well... so much could go wrong. What if-" She pauses. "What if we can't let them go?"  
I nod in understanding. "What if we can't get them out of this situation?"

She nods, biting her lip.  
"I don't know." I say. "I guess we help them escape."  
She looks at me with an incredulous expression. "Escape? But where would we go?"  
I look at her with a small smile.  
"There are so many uncharted mountains and forests in my country... I know most of them too. We could get a flight out of England into Quebec, and run from there; eh?"  
"Do you think we could pull it off? If we had to, I mean."  
I nod slowly. "It depends on where the meeting is being held, and how bad traffic is. I don't know London very well, and if we aren't quick and precise, then England will catch up to us in no time. Then we'd all be screwed, eh?"  
She smirks, standing up straight.  
"Should we tell them, or?-"  
I shake my head.  
"No. I don't think so. At least, not yet." I look towards the other cabins warily. "If the meeting's a bust, then yeah; we should. But I'm pretty sure Hungary is going to be pissed, and so will Romano and Prussia..."  
She nods. "But we still need to keep our mind on the plan, just in case."

I nod.  
As if on cue, I hear England speak. He wouldn't have been close enough to hear our conversation, thankfully, but he seemed annoyed.  
"Come on you two! It's time to eat!" He shouts at us.  
"We're coming!" I shout back.  
As we make our way down the steps, she glances at me.

"If all else fails?" She mutters.  
"If all else fails." I answer.


	25. Chapter 24 (In the End: Part 1 - 2)

It had been over seventy-five years.

Yes, definately more than that.

Perhaps even a hundred.

Italy hummed to himself as he stood in the kitchen. A wooden spoon was laden in his hand as he stirred the thick strings of spagetti in the large pot sitting on the stove. In fact, it wasn't even on his mind. What he was currently thinking about was the reciape he was using.

After a pause, he let the spoon sink in the pot of noodles and sit there, moving to stir a pot of diced and mashed tomatoes. He hummed to himself, feeling a breeze blow against his bare back. He hadn't bothered getting dressed that day, so he stood in the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, and it was hot too, so he could care less.

Germany was at work. But he was bound to be home soon.  
Italy was determined to finish dinner before then, or at least be almost done. Germany always got hungry after being at work for such a long time.

Italy stifled a yawn. The scar on his back throbbed slightly. With a light grunt of annoyance he continued his work. Italy, even after over seventy-five years, looked no different. His face was the same, his hair, his height and appearance. Everything was the same. If anything, he was just tanner. But the scar, was still pale white. The symbol would stay there forever. He'd only just recently gathered enough courage to take off his shirt in public -like the beach or at the lake, or even his own back yard- and he had been asked about it.

He just smiled and said.  
"I was in a bad situation." And left it at that, because in reality, he didn't like to talk about it.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms wrap over his shoulders. He jumped, letting out a squeak. He whirled around to see Germany standing behind him. Italy's larger counterpart had an amused smile plastered to his face, and his face wasn't hardset as it would usually be. He seemed happy.  
Italy felt a grin grow on his face as Germany pressed a kiss onto his cheek.  
" _Caio_ , Doitsu!" He grinned, kissing him back.  
"Hullo, Italia." Germany smiled. "Vhat vhere you making?"  
Italy's face glowed as the mention of food was brought up. "Feduchinni alfredo!"  
Germany laughed a bit at his extatic response.

"Alright zhen. I'll finish up some paperwork, and zhen we can eat, ya?" Germany stood back, but not after kissing Italy's head once more.  
" _Si_!" Italy stated happily.

 **oOoOo**

He couldn't see it all. He had butterflies in his stomach. He felt almost as if he couldn't breathe. He began to panic. Where was he? How did he get there? A sore pain in his shoulders told him his hands where being held above his head, in an all too recognizable situation. He could feel something digging into his cheeks, refraining his speech. His head felt hot, and his hands burned. His knees felt sore and it felt as if all of his weight was being balanced on them.

Some sort of sickening feeling told him he knew what was going to happen. But then again, his mind was blank.  
He didn't even know if it was real or not.

Italy waited. He could feel terror rising up and taking the place of his sinking gut.  
Suddenly, he felt something cold trace against his back, between his shoulder blades. He tensed, his eyes growing wide. Suddenly, the blindfold fell.

Japan and Germany where on their knees a few yards away, knives to their necks. He could feel terror rise up in his gut as he saw Russia gripping Germany's hair, and America holding the knife against Japan's throat. France and England sat, just behind them, watching in amusement. Canada and China stood off to his right, heads down, backs to him, in what appeared to be shame.

He felt that cold thing brush against his back again. He froze even more. He could feel hot tears of fear slide down his cheeks. He could feel his heart beating faster, in sync with the blood rushing through his head.

 _-bum badum, bum badum, bum-badum, bum-badum-bum-badum-bum-badum-badum-badum-badum-_

Italy felt the urge to scream.  
He could feel it trace against his back, slightly harder.

It was a knife.  
He could feel terror seize hold of his mind as his eyes went wide and he let loose a yelp of fear. Suddenly, what felt like fire peirced the skin on his back, and he screamed. He screamed so loud he was sure people could hear it for miles. The knife kept peircing his skin and flesh, and he kept screaming, and crying, but it wouldn't stop. He could feel black biting at the corners of his vision, and he continued to cry, and sob, and even struggle to get free.

But soon the world went black.

 **oOoOo**

Italy woke screaming. Germany jolted from his sleep, and Italy did the only thing he could. He turned and gripped onto him for dear life.

And he cried.

The next morning, Germany asked him if he had another nightmare about what had happened. He had nodded, sitting at the counter with his coffee.

"Do you want to tell me what it was this time?" Germany asked in concern.

He simply shook his head.

Dear god, he didn't want to talk about it.


	26. Chapter 25 (In the End: Part 2 - 2)

Japan hummed to himself. The weather was cold, and the overhead clouds had become more grey than before. But he didn't really mind it. His kimono was warm, and he was far too occupied with the romance currently unfolding in the manga he was reading.

The one hand that wasn't holding the book open was stroking his black and white cat, which purred.

"Kiku-San?" He heard someone call. Setting down his book, he turned to see Taiwan standing cheerily in the doorway.

"Hai, Taiwan?"

"Dinner is ready."

"Arigatou."

He closed his book, and stood. That cat let out a mew of annoyance, twitching its tail as a gust of wind blew some pedals from the nearby grove of trees. The manga in hand, he made his way to the house, pulling open the sliding door and closing it quickly to stop the gust of cold air from entering.

Sat around the low table, passing around plates of rice and chicken, was the eldest of the family, China. She seemed happy, beaming as she and Taiwan spoke. North and South Korea sat near each other, North Korea going on about something he must have found exciting. Hong Kong was already eating his food. Vietnam -who had been visiting for a while- was listening to the other two women speaking.

Japan couldn't help but smile at the peaceful scene.

He quickly sat himself, engaging in conversation when necessary, drawing happy smiles from his family members every once and a while.

Japan let his heart flutter. He loved this so much. He loved having this meager, not always cooperative family close. He loved how caring they could be when one of them was hurt. He remembered how a few decades ago, they had all been there for him. He didn't just love it. He was thankful for it.

He smiled to himself more as he continued to eat, watching the others converse cheerily over the day's events.

OOOOO

Japan woke in a cold sweat.

He bolted upright on his mat, finding that the long, narrow windows on the far wall had been cracked open. He stared out the windows for a moment, seeing that the sky was black. A bright flash of light illuminated the room, and a blast of wind caused his window shutters to bang against his wall loudly. The patches of floor in front of the open windows where wet from the rain.

Quickly, he stood, reaching outside to pull the windows shut and lock them. One by one, he reached out into the rainy, windy environment to close each of the three vacant windows. By the time he had completed the task, his skin was wet and freezing, and his bedclothes had been soaked. With a sigh of exhaustion, he made his way to the bathroom and switched on the light, and filled the tub practically to the brim with hot water. Setting his bedclothes aside, he stepped in and allowed himself to soak, his nose merely sticking just above the water.

He blinked, staring sleepily at the far wall.

Another crack of thunder rolled over the sky, and he heard the rain continue to pound even harder down on the roof.

Yet another thrumming of electricity though the sky, and the light flickered off. Japan allowed his eyes to narrow in annoyance as he stood, drying himself, before reaching for his -now dry- bedclothes and pulling them on.

As he made his way through the pitch black hallway, he felt nausea rattle through his core. This weather gave him bad memories. Wincing, he felt the scar on his back begin to throb as the images of the events following and leading up to it.

He shivered, finding himself cold all of the sudden. He felt more aware, staring into the dark corners of the hallway as if something where going to jump out at him.

He heard a knock on the door.

Swallowing, he made his way to it, wondering who could be knocking at such an hour. As he pulled it open slightly, he was met with w pair of familiar sea green eyes.

"Hello, Japan." Greece's sleepy, nonchalant voice echoed through the small entry room.

"O-oh! Gomen-nasai. I had forgotten you where coming to visit."

Greece hummed softly. "It's okay. Asteio... I would have forgotten as well."

Japan felt his core settle greatly as his soaking wet friend entered the room. He shed his coat, following Japan to the bedrooms.

Japan found himself laying out a bedroll, attempting to make small talk.

"How was your trip?"

"Fair. Tiring."

"Hai. That sounds like you."

After a while, the bed had been sorted out, and the two lay down to sleep.

At first, Japan let himself occupied with the fact that China would be mortified she hadn't been awake to greet their guest. But then his thoughts wondered to the aching scar on his back. He found himself sweating, biting his lip, his eyes darting about the dark corners of the room. He was restless, rolling over multiple times in an attempt to tire himself.

"Japan?"

"Hai?"

"You seem to be having trouble sleeping."

Japan found himself nodding. "...H-Hai. But don't worry about me."

"What troubles you?"

He let out a sigh of defeat, knowing that Greece would stop at nothing to get his answer.

"Bad memories, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it? It could help you sleep."

"Nai." He finally stated. "I would simply scare myself awake."


	27. Authors Note and Thanks

**Hello readers!  
I thought I might as well slip in this author's note for reviewers, because why not?**

 **This will be updated frequently as reviews accumulate. Thanks for those who have/do!**

 **Calistrophia:** Thank you so much!  
It took a long time to pull together, with the details. And don't worry. I'll be honest, I thought writing the abuse parts was entertaining. I found inspiration in similar fanfics * _as of other fandoms_ * and went from there. I tried to make it as much of a hard whump as possible * _I've seen worse_ though **.** _Hehe..._ * and I'm very glad you enjoyed it!  
As for that last bit, I guess there is always room for hope. I mean, for Italy, he's the playful, happy kind of character. Taking that and throwing it somewhere dark is easy, but making them unhopeful * _is that a word?_ * is hard; and it's definately worth keeping. Otherwise, people would probably just ditch it, huh?  
Anyway, thanks for your review. It made me feel super special!  
~Cookie

 **Brittnay:** I'm glad you liked it, I thought it was an interesting concept. And plus I know everyone needs a whump every once and a while. :3  
Don't worry, no offense was taken at all! Constructive criticism is _ALWAYS_ welcome! I wish I had added a bit more of a storyline to it, but the only story or plot I have is pretty much the 'hurt Japan/Italy to punish Germany' while Canada is running around trying to get all the shit to stop flying. ( _Ohonhonhonh... excuse my French_ )  
I also thought it would be cool for a character like Italy, who is often defined as niave, to be able to go through a huge and tough hardship, therefore 'defeating his monsters'.  
 **Brittnay:** I'm glad! I'll keep an eye out for ya in the reviews section. (;  
As for future chapters, expect those any day now. Yay!  
 **Brittnay:** I don't know why, but I always find your reviews really funny. I just have to respond to them. XD. Preach it!

 **claire:** I'll be honest, Russia ain't my favorite either... hehe... B-T-Dubs, there is a long blacklist for people I know. Like... LONG. XD Allies beware!  
About China... yes, Mongolia is older! But in that situation, China would have been the oldest present. Thanks for the tip, I might use it later!

 **Guest:** Should I make more!? ... bwahahahhaha!

 **Feli:** Woah there... I come in peace! *hides behind computer* but Lol that was friend's reaction. 'Cept she threatened to beat them all with chairs.

 **espeon64:** Well, I have leftover amo from XxOtakuxX's raid. Hope there's enough left for you to deal with! :)

 **And thanks to** ** _Just obsessed, WindSakura, Chucutie03, XxOtakuxX, daisy1234, Chucutie03, Nyx Shadowsong, Guest a_** **nd** ** _Guest for_** **also reviewing!**


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